


Into the Whirlwind

by Slybrarian



Series: Dramatic Exit [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Independent Atlantis, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:30:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his trip to the future, John saw a possible reality in which his team died and Earth abandoned Atlantis. He managed to prevent the first, but now the IOA has recalled Colonel Carter and replaced her with Richard Woolsey, as holo-Rodney predicted. Determined to insure a better future for Atlantis and the Pegasus Galaxy, he gathers a group of trusted friends to help him guarantee Atlantis will remain operational no matter what anyone else has to say about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Point of Origin

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by archae_ology. This fic was started back in March and took forever to get finished. Some people may note that scenes of it are taken from previous fics, which have been reworked to fit into a new, more sensible and coherent timeline. This fic is mostly self-contained, but it would probably help to read "Spiraling Towards Disaster" first if you're curious how Sheppard and Lorne ended up together. Spoilers up through about SGA 5x02, at which point things go AU.

**\---1.1---**   
_(May 27, 2009)_

John sometimes wondered when going to Earth had changed from something to be happy about to a chore, and then from a chore to something to be worried about. He wasn't concerned about his current situation, though, not in the least . It wasn't as if he'd been unexpectedly summoned back to the SGC by a decidedly uninformative order from the top of Homeworld Security, barely a week after his CO had been ambushed on a similar trip and summarily stripped of her position in about the most insulting way possible. It also wasn't worrying that neither General Landry nor Cam Mitchell had been able to clarify exactly who in Washington wanted to see him and could pull the strings to make it happen, either officially or unofficially. And really, John had been beamed to the White House and stuck in some random waiting room lots of times before, so that wasn't stressful in the least.

Nope, nothing to worry about at all.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John looked up and saw a young flunky in a suit standing at the door. He stood and said, "That's me."

"If you'd come this way, sir." John was lead down a hall and around a corner, idly looking at the various pieces of art decorating the place and thinking that they could really use one of those cool bubbling water columns. Just ahead of them a door opened up and General O'Neill emerged, coming face to face with John.

"Sheppard," O'Neill grunted.

"General," John said, saluting.

O'Neill returned the salute with something that was more of a vague wave towards his forehead. "Try to be respectful for once, will you?" he said before wandering off down the right.

"Um. Okay?" John replied, staring after the general. There was a polite cough from behind him and the flunky gestured toward the open door. John nodded and stepped through, to find himself (a) in the Oval Office, and (b) with President Hayes standing right in front of him. John started to draw himself up into attention, because even he wasn't stupid enough to keep slouching in this kind of situation, but then Hayes stuck out his hand. John took it, figuring that if the President wanted to shake hands John wasn't going to correct him on proper protocol.

"Colonel Sheppard," Hayes said with a broad smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, Mr. President," John returned. "It's an honor to be here."

Hayes let go of his hand. "I've been looking forward to this for a while. I've heard a lot about you."

John smiled back instinctively. "Most of it good, I hope."

"Most of it. Jack speaks highly of you, as did Dr. Weir." Hayes waved at a couch off to the side of the room. "Please, sit."

John sat down, keeping his shoulders straight and fighting the urge to sink back into the comfortable cushions, while Hayes took a seat in a chair across from him.

"I hope things are going well in Atlantis."

"As well as could be expected, sir," John replied. He cursed inwardly at the hint of irritation that crept into his voice despite his best efforts, because 'well' certainly didn't match the general feeling in the city following news of Woolsey's appointment.

"Good, good. And before I forget; my condolences on the death of your father."

"Ah, thank you, sir."

"We met a few times during my primary campaign back in '04. He seemed like a good man."

"Yes, sir," John said, keeping his opinions to himself once again.

"So, I'm sure you must be wondering why I asked you here on such short notice," Hayes said.

John nodded cautiously. "Yes, sir, that question had crossed my mind."

"I want to assure you that at the moment your job is in no danger," Hayes went on. "Quite frankly, I wasn't pleased at all with Colonel Carter's removal or the way it was handled, but the IOA had concerns regarding a serving Air Force officer as head an international civilian expedition and it wasn't politically viable to force the issue. On the other hand, I did remind them that so long as the U.S. is providing four-fifths of the forces stationed in the city, not to mention the only means of getting there, the choice in military commander will remain firmly with our hands."

John felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest and slumped back into his seat. "That's very good to hear, sir."

Hayes smiled and chuckled. "Once they heard that, they were quick to assure me that there were no plans to suggest you be reassigned at all. Between you and me, I think that they'd rather have someone who doesn't always listen to them but who's loyal to the expedition than someone who's obedient only because his superiors in the Pentagon tell him to play along."

"I, uh..." John groped for a way to explain that, appearances to the contrary, he wasn't really in the habit of disobeying orders from the brass. "I don't know how to take that, sir."

"Don't worry, I mean it as a complement. I spent enough time in the service to know sometimes the situation in the field calls for more flexibility than the people in Washington recognize. Now, that's not to say I'd have made all the same decisions you have or that some of them haven't been bad calls, but I do like the way you're willing to stick your neck out when the situation calls for something out of the ordinary."

"Thank you, sir."

"In fact, that's one of the reasons why you're here. Tell me, what's your opinion of the IOA?"

"Um." John wasn't sure he liked that question, not in the least, because there were way too many possible ways he could stick his foot in his mouth, and Teyla wasn't around to explain that he didn't really mean to mortally insult anyone. On the other hand, if it was the President asking, he could probably be excused for giving his actual opinion as opposed to trying to weasel his way out of it. "Well, sir, I'm sure they mean well, but sometimes their policies seem a bit... disconnected from our goals in Pegasus."

Hayes chuckled again. "Nicely put, Colonel. I think what you wanted to say is that they tend to be dysfunctional, at best, and now that there's no major threats to Earth's security in the Milky Way, they're becoming increasingly so. And some of their decisions of late, such as the replicators on the _Odyssey_ and their treatment of our off-world allies, have been nearly disastrous. If it weren't for the need to work together in controlling how disclosure eventually happens, I'd seriously consider ditching them entirely. I've even discussed matters with my counterparts in a few of our closer allies and with key members of Congress."

"I can't disagree with you there, sir," John said, cautious still as he tried to figure out exactly where the President was going with the conversation. "I do want to say that the international members of the expedition have been invaluable, sir, and I, uh, strongly urge that whatever happens that be taken into consideration."

Hayes dismissed John's comment with a wave of his hand. "Of course. That's actually the furthest thing from what I'm thinking. Tell me, Colonel, have you ever seen one our Mark Nines in action?"

John nearly jumped at the sudden change in topic. "Not a Mark Nine, no, but I saw some of the smaller warheads in use when we deployed HORIZON at Asuras."

"But you're familiar with them, yes?"

"Of course, sir."

"What would happen if you dropped one on Washington?"

John froze as the image of the massive fireballs he'd seen over the Asuran cities superimposed themselves over the view of North America from space. There wouldn't be the usual iconic blast and radiation effects in Washington and the surrounding states, because they'd be simply be gone. It'd be New York, Boston, places like that where you'd see skyscrapers knocked over and people's shadows flash-burned into walls.

He shook his head as he realized the President was waiting, and said, "You'd wipe half the eastern seaboard, sir. Everything within a hundred miles would be vaporized outright. The fireball would be about five, six hundred miles wide, and you'd get blast effects a lot further. Luckily half the affected area would be out to sea, and depending on detonation altitude the Appalachians might keep it from spreading too far inland."

Hayes' face was grim as he nodded in agreement. "That's exactly what I've been told by others. Hit Paris with one, and France would be gone, probably taking most of Spain, Germany, and England with it. That's the kind of weapons we've got, and there's plenty of aliens with similar ones. They may not be able to do the same instantaneous damage, but we can reliably say that two Goa'uld motherships could wipe out every city on the planet in about twelve hours. Frightening thought, isn't it?

"Yes, sir," John said. He'd only seen a few planets devastated that way in Pegasus, because the Wraith preferred to take their victims alive, but he'd had more than one nightmare of it happening to Earth.

"Of course, the sad thing is that it's not just the aliens we have to worry about." Hayes got up and started to slowly pace back and forth. "I doubt you've ever run across this is Pegasus, but there's been a number of times we've gone through the gate and found a society that had never met people from off-world. Most of those times the societies in question have self-destructed. Beyond that, the Asgard, Tollan, and Tok'ra might have been smug bastards at times, but they had good reasons based on experience to think that handing out advanced technology was a good way to see less advanced civilizations blow themselves up."

Hayes stopped and looked at John. "I'd like to think Earth would do better, and so far we have, but I can't forget that we nearly had President _Kinsey_ -" Hayes spat the name out like it was something rancid "- and that even America could find itself with some nut job who'd end up killing us all, to say nothing of other countries."

When Hayes didn't add anything for a minute, John said, "Sir, that's all interesting, in a frightening and morbid way, but I can't help but wonder what it has to do with me."

Hayes sat down across from John again. "No matter what might happen, be it external attack or internal fuckup, we need to make sure our civilization survives somehow, preferably in a way that will leave someone to come home and get us back on our feet. The Alpha site is a start, especially if we can start to implement some of the colonization plans we're working on, but it would still be vulnerable to attack from inside the Milky Way. Atlantis, on the other hand, is much more secure, has the Ancient database, and even has some infrastructure already in place. Yes, there's the Wraith, but back here we've got the Jaffa, a few remaining Goa'uld, and who knows what else."

"That certainly seems reasonable, sir. Are you talking about setting up Atlantis as a colony as well?"

"Ideally, we would be, but I think we're going to be lucky to keep the expedition running, let alone expanding it on that scale. In fact, in many ways it's even more vulnerable to politically-caused disaster than things here at home. We need to approach the situation from an oblique angle, which is where you come in, colonel."

"Sir?"

Hayes leaned forward. He was smiling and his tone was still casual enough, but there was something in his posture that reminded John of a cat waiting to pounce. "General O'Neill tells me that when it comes down choosing to do to what's right and necessary and what's legal, you'll come down on the side of what's right. He also, when pressed, grudgingly admitted you might feel that Atlantis is your real home now. Is that right?"

John squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Close enough, sir."

"Good. Now, before we go on, I should tell you that what I'm going ask you next could be interpreted as being highly illegal, and possibly a violation of your oath as an officer. Should you act on what I say and get in trouble for doing so, I'll deny this conversation ever happened. As such, I'll give you a chance to leave now, no hard feelings."

John watched the President carefully for a long, draw-out moment as he weighed his options and wondered if Hayes was saying what John thought he was saying. Then he slowly said, "All right, sir. I can't guarantee I'll do whatever it is, but I'll hear you out."

"Excellent, Colonel. In that case, I have a job for you...."

 

**\---1.2---**   
_(June 11, 2009)_

It was evening in Atlantis, and in one of the meeting rooms near the mess a motley group of expedition members had gathered for a private dinner. Most of the senior staff was there, along with some of the key members of their departments. Conspicuously absent was Richard Woolsey, Samantha Carter's recently arrived replacement. Woolsey wasn't a terribly popular person at the moment with anyone in Atlantis, although even if John had liked the man this was definitely one meeting that he wouldn't have invited him to.

John was sitting at one end of the table and noticed that the rest had unconsciously sorted themselves out more or less along civilian and military lines. Down one side were himself, Ronon, Lorne, Stackhouse, and Chuck; down the other were Rodney, Teyla, Zelenka, Keller, and Kusanagi. All but Lorne and Keller were from the original expedition, and he couldn't help but think that wasn't a coincidence.

As most of them finished up their meals, John stood up and tapped his glass a few times. The effect wasn't exactly as dignified as it should have been thanks to the fact that the glass was a cheap plastic military-issue cup, but everyone still quieted down.

"So, uh, I know you probably all are wondering why I asked you guys here," John said once he had their undivided attention. "I've been thinking about a few things lately, what with Carter being recalled and Woolsey taking her place. I don't know how much you all know about what happened to me a few weeks ago, but the gate shot me into the future because... actually, I can't even remember why. The important thing is what I got told there, which was that in the not too distant future -- maybe a year, maybe longer -- the IOA may be thinking about essentially abandoning Atlantis."

That drew shocked looks from around the table, which quickly turned to anger. Across from John, Rodney said, "Yeah, but we fixed that, didn't we?"

"I hope so, but now Woolsey's here, just like in that timeline. I could see the IOA deciding to pull most of us out and leave just a skeleton crew, and the SGC wouldn't fight them. You all remember how they treated us like crap last time." John's tone grew mocking as he repeated words they'd all heard before, when the Ancients had occupied the city. "They said they SGC didn't have room for everyone coming back and that it would do us all good to spend some time away from each other to adjust. They deliberately separated us from our friends, our families, and gave those they deigned to allow to remain in the program positions that were way below what they deserved."

John looked around at her colleagues and remembered each little insult. John hadn't really expected to get the best team in the world, but it had still stung to be demoted from base commander to C-list team leader. Lorne had been reduced to doing whatever minor off-world assignments popped up but didn't need a full SG team to take care of, while Stackhouse had gone from a team leader and trade negotiator to guard duty. Rodney had his jumper research given to a man who'd never seen one in his life, and Radek had been 'temporarily' dismissed from the program entirely. Teyla and Ronon had been abandoned outright.

John took a deep breath as he prepared to drop his bombshell. "Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one don't feel like dealing with that again. So, um. What I'm about to propose... well, it's pretty damned illegal. You can probably see where this is going, and if it bothers you, I'd ask you to leave. No one will think any less of you."

No one moved at all and the room fell into silence. A few people glanced at each other and it was them he watched most closely. He knew how his team would react, and for that matter Keller and Lorne, but it was the rest that mattered because without their support nothing would be possible.

After a few more moments of silence, Miko Kusanagi stood up and said with her soft, quiet voice, "I believe I speak for all when I say I am greatly honored that you choose to include us in your confidence, Colonel Sheppard. Even if we end up disagreeing, I am sure none will betray your words."

She bowed slightly and sat, and the entire table relaxed again. Lorne shook his head and had a wry smile as he said, "You're not scaring us off that easily, sir."

"Thank you." John smiled in relief. "Atlantis is our home. Pegasus is our home. We must act to protect that home now, and safeguard the other humans in Pegasus from the Wraith and whatever else is out there. We're the only ones with the technology to challenge them and prevent another ten thousand years of Wraith domination, and so it's up us to make a stand against them. We have a chance to make a difference here, maybe turn Atlantis into something more than just an outpost of Earth. I'd like to say that we could manage that without any trouble, but I think we all know that sooner or later we may be in a situation where what's expedient for Earth or the IOA and what's good for Pegasus may conflict. We need to be prepared for either outcome."

"It won't be easy. Most of you remember what the first year was like, but we're far better off now than we were then. If we get caught before things are ready, it won't go well for us. But I think it's worth the risk." John looked at the others, all watching her and a few nodding slowly. "Well. Obviously there's going to be a lot of work and planning to do, and I'll try to speak with each sometime soon about what our goals should be."

John gave them all a few moments so what he had said could sink in, then he cleared his throat and raised his glass. "Now I'd like to propose a toast. To absent friends."

"Absent friends," everyone murmured.

"May they not be forgotten." He drank, took a breath, and said, "Marshall Sumner."

He was followed with, "Brendan Gaul," from Rodney, "Charles Abrams," from Zelenka, and a quiet, "James Markham," from Stackhouse. The list went on, sixty-seven names in all, nearly one out of every six who'd ever set foot in the city. Many had been newcomers, for Atlantis was always most dangerous to the inexperienced, and twenty-three were marines who'd come during the siege to die within hours of arriving. John had long regretted never getting a chance to meet those men, and even if they'd never lived there they had always made a point of remembering them. If he had anything to say about it, their sacrifices would not be in vain.

 

**\---1.3---**

A short time later, the group broke up and went their respective ways. John and Evan left together and eventually ended up in their shared office, taking a bit longer to get there than usual thanks to Evan's broken leg. To all external appearances they were just the expedition's two senior officers about to start an evening of planning and paperwork. For the most part that was the case, although there were a few minor differences in their relationship compared to that which most commanders had with their executive officer.

John helped Evan get settled onto the couch they had near the window, propping his foot up on a low table he'd dragged over there a few days before, and then sat down himself. John put his arm over Evan's shoulder and stared out across the city at the moons hanging low in the sky.

"So," Evan said, after waiting a while until it was clear John wasn't going to say anything first, "Been planning that a while?"

John shrugged. "More or less. I had a lot of time in the infirmary to think, then the IOA pulled this shit with Carter. Then on Earth..." John stopped for a moment and shook his head. "Let's say that I'm not the only one unhappy and I got a few ideas to consider."

"I thought so. You seemed a little preoccupied lately," Evan said with a nod. "You do realize you just took a pretty big risk there, right?. What if someone had said no? Or worse, said yes and then reported it?"

"Eh, I knew I could trust you guys. Everyone but you and Keller came with the first expedition, and I knew you two wouldn't stab us in the back. I figured that if this group wouldn't go for it, no one would, and I'd have to find some other way of doing things."

"Fair enough." Evan sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against John's side. That sounded like exactly the sort of reasoning John use, even though he knew the man could and did use careful planning when he felt like it. On the other hand, he couldn't fault John, because he had always been a good judge of character.

"Listen, uh. If you're not comfortable with this, just say something," John said, his face lined with concern. "No one will blame you, hell; it might even be a good idea for someone in command not to know." He shifted awkwardly in his seat and opened and closed his mouth a couple times. Evan gave him time to find the words he wanted, and eventually John continued waved between them and said, "And, uh, all this. You know. What we've got."

"Our relationship?" Evan supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that. It's not contingent on you helping out with this." John froze. "Unless it is for you. I mean, if you don't want me doing it, that could be a problem. I'm pretty much committed to this, but I wouldn't want to lose us, not after this long."

"John, stop worrying. I'm with you. And I wouldn't try to come between you and Atlantis any more than I would between you and your team." Evan reached out and grabbed John's hand. He grinned and squeezed it, and got a dazzling smile in return. "Besides, I'm already going to be violating Air Force Instruction 36-2909. What's a little mutiny and treason?"

"Wait a second. Did you just suggest that it's okay to break rules?"

Evan was compelled to point out, "You know, just because I like having my life a bit more ordered than you doesn't mean I have a stick up my ass."

"I hope not." John's grin turned to a dirty smirk. "I was planning on sticking something else up there."

"No, stop. This is a serious conversation, none of that right now." Evan glared until John held up his hands in surrender. "Do you really think this will work? There's a lot of things that could go wrong, especially once we start involving more people."

"Well... I think we can rely on about half the population for sure," John said, and Evan knew he was probably thinking of a number closer to 48%. "All the old-timers came out here half-expecting to found a colony, most of the new ones have the same kind of frontier spirit, and those who don't typically end up rotating home the first chance they get. We'll need to screen people coming in a bit more carefully, make sure they have the right attitude. And we'll want to keep the actual, um... conspiracy sounds so evil. Rebel Alliance?"

"Browncoats?" Evan suggested.

"That works. We'll keep our numbers down and recruit just the most trustworthy and essential personnel into the actual browncoats, maybe have a few more people working for us who don't know it. Then when the time comes, we'll be ready to secure the city. I think most of the population will follow along, but we can send everyone who doesn't want to stay back to Earth or the Milky Way Alpha Site. If we do it right, no one even gets hurt."

Evan raised one of his eyebrows as that sentence sank in. "You're assuming it's going to come to forced secession, aren't you?"

"I wish it could happen some other way, maybe by talking the IOA into giving us independence to maintain neutrality," John said, but he shook his head and laughed darkly. "Elizabeth probably could have pulled that off, but you and I both know it's not going to happen anytime soon as things stand right now."

"You've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?" Evan quietly asked.

"You have no idea," John replied. "Honestly, it was tempting to just tell the SGC that we weren't letting them replace Carter and be done with it."

"But?"

John sighed and his head slumped down a little. "But even I know we can't go about this half-assed. We need time to get prepared, especially if we're going to do anything more than sit under the shield and think happy thoughts at the Wraith."

Evan nodded slowly. Even with the help of Earth, it would be hard to effectively eliminate the Wraith, and he had little doubt that was one of John's ultimate goals. They needed to have time to become self-sufficient and convince people to join them, both in the expedition and off-world. They'd need supply sources, not just for food but other raw materials, some way to manufacture spares, ships to actually fight with... without Earth, they would need to effectively build an entire support infrastructure from scratch. Evan knew that as much as John let him manage all that, underneath his carefree exterior John was just as aware of all that as he was.

"Well, whatever happens, you've got my support," Evan said after a few seconds' thought. "Hmm. We'll probably need to start thinking about who to bring in from the military. You've known Captain Barnes for a while, can he be trusted?"

"Alan? Yeah, he'd love this kind of thing. I'm thinking Miller too, he's been with us from the start."

Evan nodded, names running through his head along with other requirements. He would have to touch base with Radek soon to start laying out the groundwork for long-term plans and determining priorities. Energy production was at the top of the list, followed quickly by food, but there were a thousand other things they would need. Still, it seemed doable. Evan and the geologists had long since scouted out some possible sources for naquadah and other metals, and he knew it wouldn't be too hard for Dave Parrish and the other botanists to covert the greenhouses over to vegetable production. In fact, if they phrased things as increasing self-sufficiency for emergencies and cost-cutting, they could probably even get official okay for the work.

In any case, it was all something he, Radek, and Teyla would need to figure out. It wasn't that John and McKay couldn't be trusted to deal with that sort of thing, but Evan knew from experience that nothing could put John Sheppard to sleep faster than a spreadsheet.


	2. Boldly Going and So Forth

**\--- 2.1 ---**   
_(June 28, 2009)_

Team Sheppard exited the gate onto P9X-771 and John surveyed the area. There was a wide stone surface around them and a few broken columns, but the area had been overgrown, and the canopy from the surrounding trees stretched out high above them blocking most of the sky. Seeing no signs of trouble, he experimentally hopped a couple times before grinning broadly and making a longer jump that sent him gracefully arcing half-dozen yards towards the trees.

"Hey, this is pretty cool."

Rodney rolled his eyes and started walking purposefully ahead. "Yes, yes, a half gravity. We were all at the briefing. Now, supposedly the control center for this facility is a few miles south of here, so -" He stopped and sighed as Ronon did a somersault past him to land next to John. "Are you two done?"

"Come on, Rodney," John said, jumping straight up and easily clearing Ronon's head. "It's not every day you visit somewhere where the gravity's so different than what we're used to."

"I agree," Teyla said. "I have been to many worlds, but on most your weight varies only a little. This is quite refreshing."

Rodney's face lit up at that, and he bounced just a little. "You know, I think you're right. This will probably do wonders for my back. Still, less play, more science, if you don't mind?"

John chuckled and led the way, politely ignoring the way Rodney would occasionally skip a little. It was a remarkably pleasant day, with sunlight streaming down from the openings in the canopy to light the forest floor. There was a pleasant breeze running through the trees, birds were chirping, and there were no signs of either people or large animals, carnivorous or otherwise. When about fifteen minutes later they came to the edge of a small clearing, John looked up and stopped so suddenly that Rodney ran into him.

"What? What's wrong? Is there a ship or - oh."

Dominating the sky was a waxing crescent that appeared far larger than the Earth's moon, crossed with thousands of bands that were shaded yellows and oranges and browns. Here and there swirls of storms were visible, and on the night side flashes of lightning could be seen in a few spots. Several much smaller globes could be seen in the sky, including one that was silhouetted against the great disc, and just barely visible was a ring of material that circled its equator.

"This isn't a planet," John murmured, entranced by the sight. "It's a moon. You'd think the database would mention that."

For a moment, the others were silent as they looked at the sight, then suddenly Rodney fumbled out his scanner and started to poke at it frantically. "Oh no. Do you have any idea how much radiation that thing is probably putting out?"

"Rodney, calm down. If it was dangerous, the MALP would have picked it up." John shook his head and headed back into the woods, hoping there would be a better view at the Ancient outpost. After a moment the others began to follow him. Walking along, he said over his shoulder, "You don't need to be so paranoid. Honestly, is it really so hard to believe that we could have a normal mission for once?"

That was the point when the drop bear dropped out of a tree onto John's head, as drop bears are wont to do.

"Oh, god, get it off, get it off!" John yelled, stumbling around and flailing his hands as he tried to pull the extremely fluffy koala-like animal off. It chittered angrily and its stubby legs clamped down to keep it firmly in place no matter how hard he pushed or pulled, and he could barely even get a grip through its thick, silky fur. He heard the distinctive whine of Ronon's blaster, and shouted, "No, don't shoot it!"

"Hold still, John," Teyla said, and he stopped. She grabbed his arms to hold him steady as she eyed the furry beast. It hissed at her and showed no sign of letting go until she suddenly hit it square between the eyes. It squealed and John yelped as it squeezed even tighter before suddenly jumping to the forest floor and scampering up a tree. John fumbled for his sidearm, but he couldn't even undo the clasp before the creature had disappeared into the thick branches. The forest was still and silent again, broken only by the occasional bird call and the increasingly loud laughter of the other two men.

"Let me check you for injuries," Teyla said, guiding John to sit on a log while he glared at Ronon and Rodney, who showed no sign of quieting down.

"Thanks for the help, guys," he growled. Ronon tried to look contrite and failed miserably; Rodney didn't even bother to try.

"I believe you are only bruised," Teyla said, running her fingers along his scalp. She suddenly stopped, and stepped back. It took a moment for John to realize, but she was definitely fighting a smile of her own. John quickly felt his hair, and after a moment felt a warm, wet, and sticky spot at the top of his head

"What the fuck?" he spat. "That thing did _not_ just - damn it!"

"Only you, Sheppard," Rodney gasped out, his face beet-red as he leaned on Ronon for support. "Only you could get, get molested by an alien koala bear."

"I believe it must have mistaken your hair for a mate," Teyla said, having regained her composure. John narrowed his eyes, but her faced remained serene. He stood up and started to stomp off towards the gate

"We're going home!"

"What? Oh, come on, Colonel," Rodney called out. "What about the Ancient facility? We may as well go on, it's not like you have any dignity left to lose."

"Fuck you, McKay!" John shouted back, flipping him off. He didn't even look back to check if the others were following him. "The only thing Ancient I'm interested in is my shower. Lorne can search for your mythical facility. Its not like the database is ever right about them anyways. It's probably an ice cream factory or something."

**\--- 2.2 ---**

When the gate activation alarm sounded, Evan Lorne checked his watch and rolled his eyes. Only Team Sheppard was off-world, and they'd been gone barely more than half an hour. It didn't quite qualify as their shortest mission, but it was still unusually short. He figured that they'd been run off the planet by angry natives again or they'd actually found something useful, and either event meant he should to head for the gate room in case he was needed.

Stepping into the control room, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary at first glance, although the techs seemed to be a little too occupied with their work and Chuck was looking a little flushed. Evan stepped out onto the balcony and saw that three-quarters of the team was there. Rodney and Ronon were sitting on the stairs up, giggling at random intervals, while Teyla was speaking with Woolsey. Whatever was up didn't seem to have harmed anyone, which left Evan with a question.

"Where's the colonel?" he asked, turning around and walking over to lean on Chuck's console.

The Canadian flushed more, and said, "He's, uh. I think he said something about his quarters and a shower."

"I take it he's all right, then?" Evan frowned as Chuck's blush spread to his ears and neck, even worse than it had after That Trip. Somewhat concerned, he asked, "Are _you_ all right?"

"Major!" Evan turned before he got an answer, and saw a flustered Woolsey waving at him. "Major, I'd like you to meet us in the conference room in perhaps thirty minutes? As soon as you can retrieve Colonel Sheppard, although that maybe be... difficult"

Evan could have sworn Chuck nearly broke out laughing at John's name, and even Woolsey had an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

Shaking his head, Evan made his way down to John's quarters. He slipped inside and heard the shower running inside the bathroom, so he walked over to the door and said, "John, you ok?" After getting no reply for a minute, he called out louder, "John?"

Evan had almost decided to go in and make sure John hadn't lost consciousness or something when he heard the shower turn off and footsteps approaching. A moment later John stood in the open doorway, his entire body red and radiating heat and his hair looking especially silky and shiny, like it had been washed repeatedly with the shampoos he saved for special occasions.

"What?" John growled

Evan raised an eyebrow at the obvious annoyance, but frowned when he spotted a paw-shaped bruise on John's forehead near his hairline. Reaching out to touch it, he asked with concern, "What happened to you, John?"

John batted his hand away with a clenched fist, which he waved in Evan's face. "That's Colonel Furry to you, Major," he gritted out, before turning around and heading for the shower again.

Evan looked after him, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"

"I am not in the mood," John shouted from inside the shower as water started to run once more and steam billowed from the entrance.

"Oh, Christ." Evan lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down. He listened to the sounds of vigorous scrubbing for a while, and when it was clear John would say nothing more, he said, "Seriously, what's going on?"

"Major, if you're still there in ten seconds, I'm having you shot for mutiny!"

Evan rolled his eyes. "You can't do that."

"Watch me!"

"I'm not paid nearly enough for this," Evan muttered as he started to strip off his clothes. He'd just have to get John out the hard way.

It took some effort, but eventually he managed to pry John out of the shower and shoved into some clothes before leading the grumbling man up to the conference room. Woolsey and the rest of John's team were already there. Also sitting at the table was Radek Zelenka, who was talking with Rodney about something technical that Evan couldn't quite understand. Everyone looked up when they entered and the room filled with silence as John stalked to one of the empty chairs with Evan following him. Everyone looked at them, and they both glared back, Evan mostly out of sympathy but also because he had a well-tuned sense of self-preservation.

Eventually, Woolsey politely cleared his throat. "Colonel, Major, I'm glad you could join us. We've already gone over the, ah, specifics of the aborted mission. Obviously, the planet's outpost still needs to be investigated, but I have the feeling that it might be appropriate for someone else to do so."

"Damn straight," John muttered under his breath.

Woolsey ignored him and looked at Evan. "Major, your team was scheduled for a mission this afternoon already, so I was thinking that you could go, along with Doctor Zelenka."

"I can do that, sir," Evan quickly replied. He had been planning to take a few new marines along for a literal milk run, but it wouldn't hurt for them to stretch their legs elsewhere.

"Meanwhile, Colonel, your team can take their mission," he continued. "It's just a routine checkup on the Ephebans, and I'm sure they would be delighted to see you again."

"What?" Rodney said, sitting up straight. "Mr. Woolsey, surely the rest of us, and by that I mean me, don't need to miss exploring the outpost just to talk with some goat herders?"

"We'd love to," John said firmly, his voice making it clear that even if he didn't like the smell of goats, he knew that Rodney liked it even less, and he'd clearly not forgiven Rodney for his earlier actions. For a minute the two of them stared across the table at each other, and every time Rodney would open his mouth John's eyes would narrow just a little more as he growled deep in his throat.

"Fine. It's not like they'll find anything useful," Rodney eventually said, slumping back into his seat. "Zelenka will still be searching aimlessly by the time I'm back in my lab doing real science."

When the team went to the moon that afternoon, they found an Ancient bunker mostly by accident when Evan literally stumbled across the entrance. Evan had gotten so distracted watching Radek constantly glance skyward and tug his helmet tighter that he'd misstepped and ended up rolling down the moss-covered entry ramp to thud against a large blast door at the bottom.

"Uh, sir, you ok?" asked Lieutenant Palmer, peering down at him from the top.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Evan pushed himself back up and brushed off a few damp leaves, hoping that he didn't look too stupid.

He turned around to face the door and after a series of clicks and thuds it started to slide open. Evan stepped cautiously inside, with marines fanning out on either side and Radek close behind, and the room beyond lit up. It was nothing more than an empty space with controls on one wall and another large door, most likely an airlock, but beyond it they found a hangar with three jumpers lined up along the side.

"My day's getting better already," Evan remarked. Spare jumpers were always useful, and if nothing else the bunker might make a better alpha site than the current one.

From further along, Palmer called out, "Sir, we've got a transporter and a stairwell over here."

Sure enough there was a transporter exactly like those in Atlantis. "Right. Waller, De Felice, you guys stay topside. The rest of us will head down."

They all squeezed into the transporter and Evan studied the screen for a moment. It looked like there were several levels buried a few hundred feet under the surface, and after a moment he picked a spot on the diagram that was near the center. They emerged into an atrium with several corridors leading off it.

"Split up, take a look around, and radio in if you find anything."

It only took a few minutes before Radek called him over to a door directly across the room. Beyond it Evan saw a hexagonal room with screens and consoles lining the walls. Zelenka had already sat down at the largest console, hooking his computer up to it and tapping at the controls.

"I believe this is the control room, Major."

"Cool." Evan leaned against the back of Zelenka's chair and looked over his shoulder. "Any idea what this place is for?"

"Some sort of remote command center, although I'm not sure for what," he explained. "My first guess is for some sort of deep-space telescope, given how far off the galactic plane we are, but it could be anything. The computer is even less cooperative that the database back home."

"I could give it a try."

"Couldn't hurt, I suppose," Radek said. Evan slid into the chair next to him and placed his hands on the controls. A moment later, he felt something probing at the corner of his mind and he felt something turn on.

_/ unrecognized user / authenticating / imperator secundus atlanti recognized / access granted / system startup / running remote system check /_

Compared to Atlantis, the interface seemed cold and lifeless, but it apparently had no problems with him. Evan shook his head and looked up at the main screen, which had activated and seemed to be running through a start up routine. A moment later a three-dimensional diagram of the planetary system appeared. Circling the planet were several moons, including the one they were on, plus a small ring system. One object in particular was highlighted and a window popped up, which showed a structure stretched across a potato-shaped moon like a metallic spider.

"What's that, some sort of moon base?" Radek didn't reply, too caught up in whatever he was reading. Evan grinned and sat back, waiting for him to find something worth mentioning.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Radek pushed his glasses up and peered at the screen. "Oh, now that is interesting."

Evan looked over. "What's up?"

Radek pressed a few buttons and the screen switched to a schematic of the station. "See there, in the center? Is some sort of storage and deployment system for a wire or tether, very large. I think much of the rest of insides are capacitors, transformers, and the like."

"A tether?" Evan said, frowning. "What kind of tether?"

"Some sort of nanotube, probably," Radek said with a shrug. "And I'd guess perhaps several thousand kilometers in length."

"Like a space elevator?" Evan couldn't quite think of what use that would be, given that the station was an such a small rock, and even then the Ancients had anti-gravity technology that made putting jumpers and ships in orbit child's' play. "Maybe they spool it into the planet's atmosphere to lift things out?"

"Hmm." Radek tapped controls and the screen zoomed in more, and he pointed at several labels. "Naquadah-laced, too, so it'd be an extraordinarily good superconductor."

"Oh. Oh, I get it," Evan breathed. Even though he 'only' had a masters in civil engineering, he'd taken more than enough electrical engineering and physics courses to start thinking of implications. "It's a generator, isn't it? You trawl a big conductive tether through the planet's magnetosphere, and you get a hell of a current."

"Trading momentum in exchange, precisely," Radek replied, grinning broadly and clearly glad that Evan understood. "This station has engines, too. I think it latches onto a moon, deploys the tether, and once it starts to fall from orbit it moves on to the next. Very elegant."

It was essentially the same principal as every electric generator on Earth, just a million times larger, but Evan was puzzled. "Why go to the trouble, though, when they have naquadah generators or ZPMs?"

"Well, it's renewable, for one. We've seen Ancient facilities that use geothermal power." Radek pushed his glasses up a bit, looking a bit bemused himself. "It's not in a terribly useful location, I must admit, but the Ancients weren't always practical."

That was certainly true. Evan wouldn't put it past them to build the thing just because they could. "Is it even functional?"

"Possibly. We'll need to study it in more detail, but from what I can see here it should be repairable." Radek shrugged, and a bit disgruntled, he added, "Assuming we can find the resources and time, of course. We're still behind on repairs."

Evan nodded sympathetically. "Well, if we can find out what it's for, maybe you can justify the -" He stopped as something scrolled across the screen, a phrase that the linguists had drilled into the heads of every off-world team. He pointed at it and asked, "Does that say what I think it says?"

"Potentia module," Radek said, his voice catching slightly. "And I believe that part there says something about production. Or possibly energy conversion."

Evan practically bounced as he looked at Radek, who was grinning like mad. "If you tell me this thing's some sort of giant battery charger, I might have to hug you."

"Please don't, major" Radek replied, holding up his hands as if to ward him off. "But yes, very good possibility."

As the implications began to sink in, Evan looked around to check that they were still alone, and in a carefully casual tone said, "You know..."

"Yes?"

"It might be best if we underplay just how operational this place is." Radek shot him a look, and he explained, "Just so we don't get hopes up back on Earth. We'd never hear the end of it if this doesn't really do what we think."

Radek seemed to get the point, and smiled slyly. "Yes, yes. Very much the case. We can compare notes before submitting reports." The scientist chuckled. "Although, you are assuming we live through McKay and Sheppard finding out we beat them to this."

"Come on, doc," Evan said with a laugh of his own. "What's Sheppard going to do, throw me off the control tower?"

**\--- 2.3 ---**

"You!" Rodney shouted as he marched into John's room. "This is all your fault!" He stopped, realized John wasn't in the room, and stomped to the bathroom. Sure enough, John was there, naked, wet, and staring intently at his hair in the mirror. Rodney grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "What were you thinking!"

"Jesus Christ, McKay!" John pushed him away and snatched a towel from a nearby rack. "What the hell is wrong with you? And what is this, 'interrupt John in the shower day?'"

"Please, it's nothing I haven't seen before." John growled, shoved him out of the door, and swiped it closed. Rodney crossed his arms and generously waited for a few seconds before opening it again. "You're an idiot. This is probably the biggest breakthrough we've made since we got here and because of you Zelenka found it."

John eyed him again as he stomped out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist. "You've got about ten seconds to explain before I kick your ass, McKay."

"The mission? The one we were just on that you called off and then handed to Lorne and Zelenka? Well guess what - they found something important!" Rodney jabbed John in the chest with a finger to emphasize how very incredibly important this discovery was, and how very incredibly annoyed he was that he wasn't the one who found it.

"I got molested by a fucking space koala!" John shot back, batting Rodney's hand away. "Excuse me for feeling a bit violated!"

"Oh, please," Rodney scoffed. "You're just mad your hair got sticky. It doesn't mean you need to call off the astoundingly important science mission, or spend the rest of the day showering. Also, I dare you to try that violated line on any of the women."

John opened his mouth, looked thoughtful for a second, then nodded in a concession to Rodney's superior intellect. "Okay, violated might be a bit strong. I'd like to point out that you were perfectly happy to stop tramping around that forest moon as I was."

"Whatever." Rodney couldn't be blamed for that. It had been just a stupid forest with a stupid outpost somewhere on in it, as far as he'd known. It wasn't his fault the Ancients couldn't be bothered to actually put useful information in the planetary database. "Zelenka will be gloating for weeks. The only way this could have been worse if Lorne had had his stupid botanist along instead of him. Then I'd never hear the end of it."

Sheppard pulled on boxers - and seriously, what kind of self-respecting military officer had pink boxers? - along with a t-shirt. "McKay, are you planning on telling me what the hell you're talking about anytime soon?"

"What? Oh. Right. That installation's actually the control center for a ZPM charging facility." Rodney smirked at Sheppard's dumbstruck face. "More or less intact, although the diagnostics say there's a lot of broken equipment to fix. Still - ZPM charger!"

"A ZPM charge,." John repeated. He slowly sat down on his bed, steading himself with a hand so that he didn't fall over. "Do you know what this means?"

"It means I'm guaranteed to get a Nobel when this gets declassified." Rodney rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Even just looking at it should give us clues on how the ZPMs work. Of course, I might have to share with Zelenka, but that's a small price to pay."

"You're assuming you get a science prize and not a peace prize," Sheppard said. His heart didn't seem into the ridiculous statement, though, as if he was thinking of something other than the astoundingly great news.

Still, Rodney couldn't let it pass without remark. "What do you mean peace prize? That doesn't count as a real Nobel."

"Limitless energy and all that," John said. "Listen, you haven't said anything about this to anyway else yet, have you?"

"No, why? I mean, obviously I'll want to make sure that I get a fair share of the credit for figuring out how it works, but it's not like anyone else but Carter and Jeannie are smart enough to do it anyways."

"Rodney. You haven't thought this through. This could be the big breakthrough we've been needing. A guaranteed power supply would mean we wouldn't be dependent on Earth anymore."

"Oh." Understanding hit Rodney like a ton of bricks, complete with incredible pain. "And if we tell anyone, the SGC might try to pack the entire place up and haul it off to Earth."

"Exactly. If nothing else, they'll drop one of their own research teams there." Sheppard shrugged. "We'll probably just have to tell them it was interesting, but ultimately useless. At least for now."

"Well," Rodney said after a few quiet moments. "I guess that's the price you pay, isn't it?"

"Don't worry; we'll all know what you did for us." John smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. "And hey, if things go well, you could always share what you find and claim another source."

It irked Rodney, but he knew John was probably right. It wasn't like he cared what people on Earth thought... that much. Just a little. Okay, he cared, but he cared about other things more, and there were other routes he could get famous by. It wasn't like he hadn't done roughly four hundred and twenty-three other Nobel-worthy things recently, after all. Also, if the ZPM station was in bad shape, it wouldn't hurt Zelenka to take care of the repairs while Rodney stuck to the interesting theoretical work. That was what all his engineers were for, after all.

"I'm feeling bit peckish," he said. "You want to go grab some dinner, or is your hair still in hiding?"

John started to glare at him again, even as he pulled on his pants. Honestly, the man was far too overprotective of the stupid fluffy mass on his head.


	3. Moments of Transition

**\--- 3.1 ---**   
_(July 6, 2009)_

The next few months were quiet ones in Pegasus. With Michael dead (hopefully for real this time) and the Asurans gone (ditto), things has been relatively peaceful. Even the Wraith seemed to be unusually inactive and culling fewer worlds, most likely because they were licking the wounds they had been inflicted over the last year. It was because of that quiet period that word came from Earth that John and Evan had both been summoned back to Earth to take care of some sort of military matters. The order to return had been vague as to the reason and had come through the U.S. chain of command rather than from the IOA, direct from General O'Neill's office.

When John, Evan, and a dozen other Earth-bound personnel stepped through the wormhole, O'Neill was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. "Colonel. Major. Pleasant trip?"

"Yes, sir," Evan replied, while John told him, "The in-flight movie could have been better."

"I'm sorry our wormhole isn't up to your standards, Colonel," O'Neill replied. He waved them along as he started for the door. "Come on, we've got some stuff to talk about."

O'Neill led them out of the gateroom and into the warren of tunnels that made up the SGC. Looking around at the drab concrete walls, John had to suppress a shiver. The base held nothing but bad memories for him, and he couldn't help but imagine the weight of the mountain pressing down all around him. John thought was probably something poetic about that connection. Finally, they reached a small, obviously temporary office down in the soft sciences section, and O'Neill gestured for them to sit while dropping into his own chair.

"Well, gentlemen, there's good news and bad news," he said once they were settled.

"We'll take the bad news first," John responded with a glance toward Evan, who gave him one in return. He was already starting to think of what sort of batshit ideas the Pentagon, or worse yet the IOA, might have come up with this time.

"Did I say there was a choice?" John shrugged, and after giving him a pointed look O'Neill continued. "The President and the other IOA leaders have been talking recently about the possibility of disclosure to the public. It's getting harder to keep concealing the program, especially as the new shipyards become operational, and the idea is that it'd be better to reveal it in a controlled fashion then have CNN catch a cruiser on camera. It's looking like they're going to settle for sometime around the New Year, which means we've got about six months to prepare."

John and Evan looked at each other again, then John asked, "Is that the good news or the bad news?"

"That's the neutral news. Can I finish?" O'Neill replied caustically. After a moment, he said, "The good news is that we'll be looking at a lot more funding, and a lot more manpower. There'll be the usual growing pains that come with that, of course, but we've got a solid cadre to build off of. Since we want to make sure anyone essential has appropriate seniority, the president has given us special authorization to give early promotions or brevets for anyone who needs them."

"Anyone?" John asked, sitting up a little straighter and not quite believing what he was hearing.

"_Within_ reason, and mostly from the current crop of junior officers and the enlisted. I've already got a list of field-grade officers for this first round of promotions - Reynolds, Caldwell, Davis, a few other SG team leaders and base staff. I'll need recommendations for what to do with your guys."

John deflated slightly, because if O'Neill was picking the senior officers himself, that left off one person John would have put on the list. Still, it was good news. The SGC had long since been forced to deviate from normal promotion procedures, with various stop-loss measures in effect. The constant need for experienced staff meant up-or-out was out of the question, and transfers away from the program for anyone competent simply didn't happen. Still, Atlantis was even odder, and its distant position meant that a lot of times the decision-makers on Earth didn't give people the recognition they deserved.

Beside him, Evan was nodding slowly, probably thinking the same thing. "I can think of a few dozen people who definitely deserve it. Are we talking just the Americans, or the international staff, too?"

"Eh, shouldn't be too hard to swing for the rest, if you want," O'Neill said with a shrug. "I'm sure their governments will want to keep the status quo."

"You said more manpower, right?" John was starting to get a gleam in his eyes, the sort usually associated with young boys in toy stores. They'd been barely keeping up with replacements for men they lost or who transferred home. Some of that was John and Evan's own finickiness when they screened them, because the last thing they needed were troublemakers, but he'd give a lot to get more than the occasional handful of inexperienced troops. "Enough marines or soldiers to form actual battalion instead of a miniature one - or better yet, enough for two. Trained pilots. Paratroopers! Oh - SEALs, with some of those cool little boats."

Evan shot John one of his 'please shut up, sir' looks, then asked O'Neill, "Before the colonel gets ahead of himself, I have the feeling that I should ask what the bad news is."

"Good idea," O'Neill replied with a slight smirk that told John he was about to hear something he wouldn't like. "See, the thing is that when I said there's a lot of new funding and manpower, I didn't mean you were getting any of it. The SGC is expanding enough that we're taking over the rest of the mountain, and a few other Homeworld Security projects are benefiting, but the majority of it is going to - God help us - the _Navy's_ warship program. We'll be sending a few green troops your way, but not another company, and not many SGC vets."

John sat back and groaned. He really should have known better than to get excited. "Of course. No one cares about us, all alone out there, holding the line against the darkness, all that keeps Earth from being a fast-food joint."

"Yeah, that seems pretty accurate," O'Neill said cheerfully. "Fact is, Atlantis is far away and doesn't have as much a direct impact on Earth's security as operations in this galaxy. People can't see you, but they can see big, shiny battle cruisers."

"We fight the Wraith, that's security," John protested. He didn't have anything against battle cruisers - far from it- but this was absurd. "And didn't we cure cancer recently?"

"I'm sure people will thank you, once the cure stops killing people." O'Neill spread his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture. "Look, the president and I appreciate what you're doing, but the fact of the matter is there's just not room in the budget for major troop increases out your way, even if the IOA would approve of more 'American dominance'. If you've got any specific requests, I'll see what I can do."

"People with the gene. Everyone who you can get, civilian or military," John said, deciding to focus on the most vital points in the hopes that he could at least guilt that much out of the general.

O'Neill got a skeptical expression, but before he object Evan continued for him, "You don't need nearly as many as we do, and there's always going to be people who won't volunteer to go out to Pegasus under any circumstances. Just bring it up with anyone who might be willing to give it a shot, maybe send them our way for a week or two to convince them."

John nodded in agreement. "Just a couple of days, even." That, in John's experience, was all the time that anyone ATA-positive needed to decide.

"Hmph." O'Neill looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "Fine. It's doable, especially if they're replacing people coming back to Earth. Anything else?"

John hesitated, and decided to take a chance in case an opportunity like this never came along again. "Along the same lines, the expedition needs a formal exemption from 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell.'"

Evan didn't quite manage to suppress a surprised and dismayed exclamation of, "Damn it, John", while O'Neill just raised an eyebrow.

"Look, it's unfair to have different rules for US and the international troops, and we all saw how well the informal policy worked when Ellis got pissy." John went for broke and added, "Besides, if we actually enforced it, we'd loose everyone with the gene, and that would just be disastrous."

That certainly got O'Neill's attention. Watching John like a hawk, he leaned forward and drawled, "Oh really."

John swallowed. "Doctor Beckett found a strong correlation between the natural ATA gene and bisexuality, and lesser one among those with it recessively. Which, given that we've always selected for the recessive so the gene therapy is more likely to work, means a lot of the city's population."

"Researched it, did he?" O'Neill asked in a conversational tone.

"He didn't share it outside the command staff, for obvious reasons. Sir."

O'Neill's face was expressionless as he stared at John and tapped his fingers on the desk. As the silence dragged on, John started to wonder if he'd made a horrible mistake in bringing it up. He'd expected O'Neill to say no, at worst - after all, he'd found out about John and Evan months before - but given that John had basically implied O'Neill was bi... most older military men wouldn't take that well, to put things mildly. John started to come up with an apology, and prayed that the situation was salvageable.

"I'll talk with Hayes," O'Neill suddenly said, tipping back in his chair. "I know Weir had brought it up before, and her ideas still have a lot of sway with him. But no promises."

John relaxed and nodded. "Thank you, sir, that's all I'm asking."

"Any other demands?" John and Evan looked at each other but after a moment shook their heads. John didn't want to push his luck, and he suspected he'd be lucky if Evan didn't kick his ass for trying even this much. "Good. I know it's not much, but it could be worse. Just keep your heads down and we'll see where things stand."

"It's probably better this way," Evan said after a moment. "Less attention means less interference. No offense, sir, but the last time the SGC brass got a scheme in their heads, we lost Doctor Weir and six others, not to mention all the damage to the city."

"I don't blame you. I'll tell you right now, I think you guys are doing a good job, and the last thing I want is for some senator to try and shove his pet general on you. It's better to keep you small and under the radar as much as possible."

Grudgingly, John accepted that. He knew exactly how bad that sort of politics could be, and one of the reasons they'd succeeded as well as they had was the relatively low level of meddling from above. If some Pentagon hotshot was put in command, a lot of damage could be done, both to the mission and to the lives of a lot of his men. "So is there any more than that we will be getting?"

O'Neill thought about it for a moment, then said, "Nope."

"I guess we'll make do, then." It was what they'd been doing anyways, and when you got down to it, at least green troops didn't take as much retraining to get them used to working in Pegasus. One other bright side John could think of was easier contact with families, which would make a lot of people happier, at least among those who actually had families on Earth. "Anything else you need, sir, or should we get to work?"

"I need a word with you in private, Colonel. Lorne, while you're waiting, go see Major Nagly. She's taking issue with the concept of underwear-eating moss and would like a word with you." Evan winced and nodded, before leaving with a quick grin to John.

After the door closed, John waited for O'Neill to go on, but when he just stared back John eventually said, "So... about those promotions for field-grade officers."

"Wondering what kind of chances Atlantis' pair have?"

"Not about me, no." John grinned and dipped his head to the side. "Even if I had time in grade, I think it's been made pretty clear how much chance I've got anytime soon."

O'Neill raised his eyebrow. "Good to know. As for Lorne, he was up for one anyways. Official paperwork actually just cleared the promotion board. I figured you might want to tell him yourself."

John shifted in his chair and despite his best efforts he felt himself starting to blush. "Listen, sir, I want you to know -"

"Can it. I really don't care whether it's some alien-induced bond or sappy true love." O'Neill's expression was hard, although there seemed to be a trace of amusement in his eyes. "You're both doing your jobs and keeping your _thing_ out of your professional lives. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that I need to know."

"Thank you, sir," John said, relieved not only to hear that but that he wouldn't have to talk about it any further.

"Now, with regard to you..." O'Neill leaned back in his chair and paused dramatically before finishing, "You get one, too. Landry's not too happy with me, and you're lucky it was Carter writing your performance review this year. That meant it didn't include words like 'insubordination' and 'mutiny', but does have things like 'heroic' and 'deserves a pile of commendations.' Normally I'd still let you stew for a while, but I can't afford that luxury right now. On the bright side, I do get to watch a bunch of Pentagon desk jockeys sputter, so there's at least a little consolation. You'll also both be doing Air War College by correspondence. Unusual, but since the entire point of all this is to keep you where you are, I'm not about to pull you to take some classes."

O'Neill crossed his arms as he waited for a reaction. John's eyes were wide as he stammered out, "Sir. I, I don't know what to say."

"Whatever. Just don't do anything to make me think I've misplaced my faith, or you're going to regret it. Now scram. I'll see you in the morning."

John stood up, his spine straight. "Yes, sir, Thank you, sir. You won't regret this." O'Neill rolled his eyes and waved him towards the door. John walked out and carefully closed the door behind him, then managed to walk down the corridor and around a bend before shouting, "Yes!" and breaking into a run to find Evan.

**\--- 3.2 --- **   
_(July 10, 2009)_

They spent the next day in the SGC handing a few routine matters that always needed to be done in person - mostly the usual arguments over supply expenditures and scheduling downtime - before they got shipped off to Washington. Even if disclosure was months away, preparations were already under way at the Pentagon, with numerous generals and other high-ranking officers being briefed on the program so they'd be ready for the larger changes that would follow. Evan was quickly reminded that one reason why he loved Atlantis so much was that people there didn't have the usual military obsession with PowerPoint. No such luck in the Pentagon. Thankfully, they were down to the last meeting before the weekend, and it was only supposed to last an hour. The room was full of officers from different services, mostly majors and colonels.

"Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and this is Lieutenant-Colonel Elect Evan Lorne. First things first, this material is classified, so if you don't have ARGENT CRAWDAD clearance, you need to leave the room." No one got up, which Evan thought a nice change from the last meeting, when two different briefings had been scheduled for the same time at the same place. "Great. I'm the commanding officer of the Atlantis Expedition's military component, and we're here to brief you on the current strategic situation in Pegasus. Colonel Lorne will start us an overview of our own forces."

Evan stepped up to the podium and started clicking through slides, starting with the theoretical expedition organization chart, as opposed to the absurd crisscrossed real one. "Currently, the expedition is comprised of a little over four hundred permanent members, about half of whom are civilians. Our main military force consists of two companies of marines for base defense, plus seventy-eight other military personnel who fill out our off-world teams and support positions."

One Army major near the front raised her hand. "I notice you have quite an odd mix there. Multiple services, even multiple countries. Is that causing any trouble?"

"You're correct; we've got a wide array of services represented. It's probably the most mixed interservice group in recent memory -- we've even got a Coast Guard weatherman. There's sixteen different countries that have military personnel stationed in the city, thankfully primarily NATO so they're used to working together. There's a few oddballs, including a Mountie." That raised quite a few eyebrows around the room, and Evan smiled. "Don't ask, it's really not worth going into at this time. Anyways, since most of them come to us piecemeal, they're simply slotted into the units just like anyone else. Overall there have been relatively few problems."

Relatively few meaning 'besides that time Sergeants Schwartz and Prodoun made out in public just to piss certain outsiders off', but he wouldn't say that in public. It would probably get back to the women somehow, and they could both beat him up. Besides, that definitely fell under the category of need to know information. "You'll note that we also have two Pegasus-born specialists on staff, technically listed as civilian contractors. In practice, both Teyla Emmagan and Specialist Ronon Dex are highly experienced combat personnel and are especially skilled at hand-to-hand fighting and field operations."

This time a full-bird Air Force colonel spoke up. "Aliens? And they're on the first contact team?"

John's expression went wooden for a moment, before a cheerful but entirely fake smile appeared on his face. "Their local knowledge is invaluable when dealing with the other native populations, as are all their other skills. Teyla and Ronon have been essential in off-world missions and have been instrumental in protecting the city and Earth."

"Still, bit of an odd choice, Colonel. While I'm sure they're helpful, isn't it unwise to put people we don't know that well into such important positions?" Evan could tell from the flex of John's jaw that he was starting to get annoyed at the nameless officer who was questioning him. Evan didn't blame him, either, especially since the tone the question had been delivered in seemed to be aimed squarely at questioning John's competence. Trying to defuse the situation, Evan smoothly inserts himself back into the conversation.

"Actually, sir, having an alien on the lead first-contact team is a practice that goes back to the first days of the SGC, and I doubt anyone could deny Teal'c's contributions to planetary security. There are several other examples, such as Jonas Quinn and a refugee name Nyan on Doctor Jackson's staff." Evan didn't mention Vala Mal Doran, because for all her charm and helpfulness, she didn't exactly make a good example in favor of alien team members. "In any case, if you have questions about that particular policy, I would suggest you take it up with General O'Neill, as he was instrumental in creating it."

There were a few chuckles around the room, no doubt from people who had dealt with O'Neill before. Colonel Grumpy, as Evan decided to call him, didn't say anything in reply. Evan took that as an indication to go on. "In addition to those combat forces, the vast majority of our civilian population has fairly extensive self-defense training, thanks largely to to Emmagan, Dex, and several of our marines. While we obviously don't leave them unprotected at any time, this does let us concentrate more manpower carrying out operations. In addition, virtually all civilian members of the off-world teams have more extensive combat training, including the basic field survival and small unit warfare. In emergencies either in the field or in the city, they've proved to be extremely helpful as auxiliaries."

That drew a snort from Colonel Grumpy. "You can't be seriously using them on the front lines, can you? Putting a gun in a scientist's hand and teaching him a few neat tricks doesn't make him a soldier."

"No, sir, and we have no desire to make our civilian comrades soldiers," Evan replied. He was proud of himself for keeping his voice level. "However, they can handle themselves well, and have repeatedly demonstrated that they can be trusted to watch our backs and get us out of harms way if they need to. Beyond that, their technical knowledge is invaluable."

"Sure, sure, there's the science missions and all that, but surely the military has enough trained scientists that we don't need to rely on civilian contractors for initial exploration." Grumpy clearly didn't know when to quit, and now the entire room seemed focused on him. "You're just never going to get the same level of dedication out of someone who doesn't have a military background. I can see why you might have had to make do, but-"

Evan could tell the exact moment when something inside John broke by the way his lips started to curl into the slightest smile. He doesn't let Grumpy finish the sentence, just interrupts to say, "Colonel, when was the last time you were out in the field?"

Colonel Grumpy looked annoyed at not being allowed to finish his statement, perhaps a bit confused at being confronted like that. "Well, it's been a few years, but I don't see what-"

"Okay, fair enough, that's normal at your rank," John said easily. "But when you were, what kind of unit was it?"

"I was running logistics flights in and out of Afghanistan," Grumpy said. "I hope you're not trying to imply that-"

John nodded sharply and cut him off again. "Important work, but I get why you might not understand the kind of dynamics involved with what's essentially a small special-forces unit that has to rely only on itself most of the time. The civilians on the teams, the permanent ones, they're every bit as part of the teams as the military members. They know exactly what they're getting into and the risks they're taking every time they go out, and while they still need protecting, that doesn't make them any less valuable or strong, if anything it's the other way around."

Colonel Grumpy snorted. "Oh, please, there's a difference between going out expecting peaceful exploration and knowing it's a combat mission."

Evan was impressed by John's self-restraint, because he only growled just a little. His voice vibrating with barely-contained anger as he bit out, "No, it's not just a matter of normal missions going wrong, because they'll demand to go out on search and rescue knowing exactly how dangerous it is, because that's what teammates do for each other. Civilians have literally walked through fire for their comrades and I've lost too many of them when they've done it, so I would very much appreciate it if you didn't denigrate their bravery or their dedication. Sir."

There was something dangerous in the cold stare John was directing at the other man at that point, something dark that Evan had only rarely seen, and the colonel seemed to wilt and shrink into his seat. Thankfully he shut up, and Evan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A glance around the room revealed a few skeptical faces, but considerably more people looked thoughtful. After a minute, Evan clears his throat and goes on with the presentation, clicking the presentation on to a slide of jumper picture.

"Our aerospace forces consist of two dozen puddle jumpers, piloted by expedition members with the ATA gene - we only have a few professionally trained pilots, but so far that hasn't been a major issue. While technically a transport craft, the jumper is still a superior fighter to just about anything we face, and can even pose a threat to small capital ships. At present the jumpers can't be replaced, but engineering division is working on changing that. We also have intermittent support from BC-304 cruisers passing through, and we'll cover those in more detail later."

Click, diagram of the city, and he was starting to get back into his rhythm. "Atlantis itself is defended by an energy shield, three drone weapon bays tied to a control chair, and a network of point-defense railguns. However, our first line of defense is keeping our location a secret."

"Excuse me, sir," someone near the back interrupted, holding up his hand. Evan tried not to wince. At this rate, the meeting wouldn't get over anytime close to on schedule, and somehow he doubted there would be anything like a flame-breathing squid to interrupt.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I must have missed a briefing somewhere along the line. What's Atlantis exactly? Some sort of ship or space station?"

John shot Evan a dismayed look and replied, "No, it's the fabled lost city of the Ancients. Although you're close, since it can fly." Evan can almost hear the word 'moron' tacked onto the sentence.

"I think this is going to take a little longer than we thought, sir," Evan murmured, while wondering who he needed to track down and shoot for this.

It ended up taking three long, agonizing hours for them to educate their charges on the wonders of gate travel, killer robots, nuclear fascist Amish, and space vampires. Fortunately for everyone involved no one had deliberately antagonized John again, either sensing it was a bad idea, not being assholes, or just wanting to get out of there as badly as they did. Once the briefing broke up, John and Evan quickly made their way to the parking lot and their government car. They had planned to hit a few museums, but clearly that idea was shot.

"Want to find a restaurant, or just room service?" Evan asked as they pulled onto the freeway. Long commutes were something he was definitely glad he didn't have deal with anymore, because even the longest jumper rides couldn't compare to sitting in the middle of traffic. Not even long jumper rides with hyper botanists or McKay.

"Room service," John replied, which suited Evan just fine. One benefit of this entire trip was they could actually share a room thanks to the USAF's bean counters. With a few precautions and a smuggled Ancient jamming device, they could actually spend the nights together in the same bed. That was about the only bright point in the entire trip -- besides the entire promotion thing, of course.

 

**\--- 3.3 --- **

From: Richard Woolsey (woolsey.richard@pegasusproject.org)  
To: Atlantis Staff (atlantis@pegasusproject.org)  
Date: 2009-07-11 18:21 GMT  
Re: Promotions and Disclosure announcements

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. As I'm sure some of you have heard by now, initial plans for disclosure are currently being made by the SGC and IOA, with the aim of implementing them over the remainder of the year and formal disclosure occurring at the start of next year. I want to stress that these are preliminary plans and that at present we will be continuing normal operations, at the very least until December. We will be accepting input and comments throughout the process. More information will follow soon.

More immediately, I am pleased to announce that a large number of our military members have been promoted, in anticipation of expanding the battalion following disclosure. I am proud to say that many of them are being promoted well in advance of the normal schedule, as General O'Neill, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the President wish to insure that their bravery, skill, and dedication is properly recognized and appreciated following disclosure. A full list is attached to this email, but I wish to especially congratulate Colonel Sheppard, Lt. Colonel Lorne, and First Sergeant Stackhouse, as this reflects extremely well on their leadership. A ceremony to recognize everyone is tentatively scheduled for next Saturday.

Cake and ice cream will be served.

\-----

**{Martinez}** dude, Sheppard's totally getting laid tonight. :D :D

**{Stacks} ** What?

**{Martinez}** he had me and some of the other guys go out that residential building on the east pier.

**{Martinez}** and we had to carry this disassembled bed all the way back to his place.

**{Martinez}** big one, too. barely had room for it in that little shoebox he calls a home.

**{Stacks} ** Wow. Little Johnnie's ready for a big boy bed?

**{Martinez}** looks like it.

**{Stacks} ** Huh. Yep, sounds like he's got big plans for tonight.

**{Martinez}** speaking of which, you have any idea if there's going to be booze?

**{Stacks} ** Officially? As the first sergeant, I know of no booze.

**{Stacks} ** Unofficially, we're breaking out some of the good stuff and botany has happy brownies. Colonels won't mind, and even Dick's not that big a prick.

**{Martinez}** Sweet. :D

**{Martinez}** hey, you have any idea who Sheppard's with?

**{Stacks} ** Couldn't say.

**{Martinez}** come on, man. you've got to have a guess.

**{Stacks} ** Nope, wouldn't be appropriate for me to say.

**{Martinez}** Seriously. You've worked with him since the beginning; you've got to have some idea.

**{Martinez}** help a pal out. I need to know who to put a bet on with Chuck.

**{Stacks} ** My lips are sealed.

**{Martinez}** i was down for McKay at first, but i want to change. payoff would be split too many ways, and I don't think it's him anymore.

**{Stacks} ** Oh?

**{Martinez}** see, he had this shit-eating grin the morning after the heat broke. he totally got some that night.

**{Martinez}** but I know for a fact Sheppard was with Lorne that night (poor guys) so McKay couldn't have been with them

**{Martinez}** and I don't think he'd cheat. unless it's some kind of open thing, which might fit some of the stories... but bad odds there, too.

**{Stacks} ** Actually, I have it on good authority McKay ended up buddying up with Shep and Lorne. No one else would share; friends were all paired off already.

**{Martinez}** huh

**{Martinez}** so much for that theory. :( must have had some other reason to be full of himself that day.

**{Stacks} ** If you say so.

**{Martinez}** O_o

**{Martinez}** DUDE.

**{Stacks} ** Yes?

**{Martinez}** you can't be serious!

**{Stacks} ** About?

**{Martinez}** are you fucking with me?

**{Martinez}** just because you were screwing one of your guys way back when doesn't mean Sheppard is too, you know.

**{Stacks} ** I didn't imply anything of the sort.

**{Stacks} ** And even if Sheppard and Lorne had hypothetically been going out for a year, I wouldn't say anything.

**{Stacks} ** And you definitely wouldn't, no matter how much you love to gossip.

**{Stacks} ** Because if you were to spread that around, I would have to hurt you. And then I would have to tell Team Sheppard.

**{Stacks} ** And then I'd be sad, because I'd have to fuck around with my patrol schedule after you died a mysterious and grisly death. Understand?

**{Martinez}** dude, I'm not an ass. :/

**{Martinez}** i've got to go talk with Chuck. Sheppard/Lorne has to be a long shot, i'll win big.

**{Martinez}** hmm... i wonder if i can put money on that and Sheppard/McKay/Lorne...

**{Stacks} ** Whatever.

**{Stacks} ** Shouldn't you be getting ready for the ceremony?

**{Martinez}** right, right, I'm going.

 

**\--- 3.4 --- **   
_(July 25, 2009)_

Evan had an odd relationship with his uniform these days �" or more specifically, his Class A uniform. It had been years since he'd worn it with any regularity, lately because he wore his Atlantis expedition uniform and before that because he spent most of his time in SGC BDUs. Over that period he'd grown to associate the standard USAF officer's uniform with the few occasions he did wear it - funerals, bureaucratic battles, the rare formal disciplinary action. None of those were things he liked to recall. Ever since John had drawn him into The Plan Evan had been even more reluctant to wear the uniform, because it felt to do so after having changed his loyalties. For all those reasons he avoiding putting it on whenever possible.

Still, there remained a small part of him that still remembered the excitement and pride he'd felt the first time he'd put the uniform on, and it was that part that came to the forefront as he stood before the assembled men and women of the Atlantis expedition, about to be promoted for what was probably going to be the last time of his career. Nearly two dozen others had been recognized before him, in ascending order of rank. It was a bit unusual to have one big ceremony, but it was as good an excuse for a city-wide celebration as they ever got and judging by the smells coming from the serving table at the back of the hall no one was going to complain about sitting through a handful of short speeches.

Evan was the last called forward, not long after presenting one of his own team members with a promotion to captain, and now he stood at parade rest a few feet from where John was standing at the podium and fidgeting with the paper his speech was on. He was never all the comfortable speaking formally in front of a large group, but what he lacked at times in eloquence and proper decorum he more than made up for with genuine passion.

When John finally got started, he said, "All right, I'll try to keep this short. I know you're all here for the food, not to listen to me make a fool of myself." There was a smattering of laughter and good-natured jeering from the crowd. "First, I just want to repeat what everyone else has said so far. Everyone who's been up here today has done an astounding job, but I don't want you to think that we don't appreciate everything the rest of you have done. I couldn't ask for a better group, and if I had my way you'd all be getting promotions and every commendation on the books. With that said, I can't think of anyone who deserves recognition more the Major Lorne, and I definitely include myself in that. Lorne is one of the best officers I've ever had the pleasure of serving with. It's always reassuring to know that when my team gets into trouble he'll have our backs, and I'm sure you guys appreciate that he makes sure I sign the forms that keep you paid on time. Brave, thoughtful, kind, competent in the extreme - there's really no way for me to describe him adequately."

Then John paused and glanced a few times between Evan and his paper. Evan only had a split second's glimpse at John's expression, but it was enough to see the way his brow was scrunched a little, the way his lips were turned down a tiny bit, the tiniest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Evan knew that look well. It was the one John wore when he was feeling conflicted about something and didn't quite know how to proceed. Evan frowned a little himself as more seconds dragged by, because he could only think of one thing that John could be getting hung up on. While under most circumstances Evan would never suspect John was about to do something insane like declare his true love - or for that matter any other kind of feeling �" Evan still couldn't help but be pensive as John turned a little red and took a deep breath.

Perhaps fortunately, the city's intercom chose that moment to click on. _"Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, please report to the control room. Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay to the control room."_

That broke whatever spell had come over John. He shrugged, pulled out a little box, and tossed it to Evan. "You're a colonel. Have fun. Try not to get too drunk, and make sure to save me some cake."

"The cake is a lie," Evan informed John solemnly.

John responded with a brilliant grin, and said into the microphone. "Okay, people, official show's over. You can eat." John then turned it off and stepped a little closer to Evan so he could lean in and whisper, "I finally got a new bed. Want to break it in, Colonel Lorne?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Colonel Sheppard."

"Good man." John glanced at the crowd and, seeing that it was safely distracted by the mass rush towards the food, reached out and momentarily clasped Evan's hand, holding it just a little longer and tighter than normal. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, then quickly said, "Listen, in case I don't get a chance to say it later, I, uh, you know."

Evan grinned. "I know, John. Same here. Now go on and get to work."


	4. The Computer Is Your Friend

**\--- 4.1 ---**   
_(July 26, 2009)_

Evan woke slowly, so warm and content that he almost considered going back to sleep. He'd had a long night, starting with the big We're All Alive And Getting Promotions party, which was followed a very pleasant time breaking in John's new bed. On the other hand, he did have to get up eventually because he had work to do. He compromised with himself and lay there for a while, until the sun started to shine into his eyes. That was the first sign that something odd was up, because his room didn't catch the morning sun. That in turn caused him to rethink the entire warm feeling, realize that the reason for it was the hairy body pressed against his back, and conclude that for some reason he was still in John's bed. He didn't have anything against John's rather spacious and comfortable bed -- it was a considerable improvement over the old kiddy one -- but being in it in the morning meant that he'd ended up spending the entire night there, something he was always extremely careful not to do on Atlantis. Something had gone wrong, and he suspected he knew who was responsible.

"John," he groaned, rolling onto his back and nudging his partner with his elbow. "Did you turn off my alarm?"

John opened one eye lazily. "Yep. I figured you could sleep in for once in your life."

Evan had figured as much, and felt compelled to remind John, "The entire point of me getting up early is that I can sneak out without getting seen. It kinda goes with the entire secret affair thing."

"Don't worry; half the city is going to be hung over. No one will notice," John replied. He closed his eye again and flopped onto his stomach, reaching an arm across Evan in the process and trying to pull him tight. Evan sighed, checked the time, and wormed his way out of John's grasp so he could stand up and start looking for his clothes.

"Come on, John, get up. If we hurry, we can get breakfast before the meeting about the new guys." There was a batch of newbies coming in within a week, which meant they needed to get prepared for orienting them and deciding where to stick them. John and Evan had already screened them while on Earth and had a rough idea of their abilities, but there were still a million details to work out. That was what this meeting with the unit commanders and senior enlisted was supposed to figure out, assuming they ever got there.

"Fine, fine," came a grumbled response. John tried to swing his legs off, found that there was still more bed in the way, then scooted over to get off. "Are you sure we don't have time for -"

"No." Evan frowned as he realized his pants were way too rumpled and stained to be anything but a dead giveaway that he hadn't changed since the party. It was a good thing he kept a couple sets of backup underwear and uniforms in the dresser. He tossed the dirty clothes into the hamper, did the same with a couple days' worth of John's own, and headed for the bathroom. John followed him.

"You know, if we're in a rush, we should share the shower," John suggested. Evan rolled his eyes but nodded, waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, it came. "And while we're in there, we could -"

"Sorry, John. Someone turned off the alarm, so we don't have time." Evan stepped into the shower and started to scrub himself down. John went with him, and with a minimal amount of grumbling and groping they were soon cleaner and at least somewhat respectable-looking. They got dressed and while John fiddled with his hair Evan took a few moments to study himself in the mirror. He didn't look any different than he had yesterday, without so much as a change in insignia on his clothes, and he didn't feel different either. Maybe that was because nothing really had changed. He was still doing the exact same job, with the exact same responsibilities, and while the pay was better he hadn't been able to spend a fraction of what he'd already been getting. Out here in Pegasus a little change in title didn't seem that important compared to the rest.

He must have been staring at himself for a while, because he was startled when John said, "Ready for your first day as _Lieutenant Colonel_ Lorne?"

Evan had to grin, because even if it was mostly meaningless at this point he still had to admit that sounded really damned good. "I think I am, _Colonel_ Sheppard."

"Well, then, let's get moving, Lieutenant Colonel. I just remembered its waffle day."

"Oh, now you're eager to go." Evan waited while John checked that the corridor was clear, then followed him out. "No regard for whether your XO is going to be late the day after his promotion, but now that your stomach's threatened you need to rush."

"I'm a simple man," John quipped, which made Evan snort. Simple wasn't the word he'd use.

They reached the mess without anyone accusing them a gross misconduct, although they did pass a rather haggard-looking Stackhouse on the way. Most of John's team was already at one of the balcony tables, and after grabbing some food the pair went over the join them. John sat down next to Rodney, while Evan took the spot at the end next to him and across from Teyla.

John grinned, and even though it wasn't necessary he asked, "Hey guys, you mind if the Lieutenant Colonel sits here?"

Rodney ignored him, typical for this time of day, Ronon grunted, and Teyla inclined her head and said, "Of course, John. I hope you are well this morning?"

"Yep. You?"

"I am well. Torren has finally started to sleep through the night, which I must say, is a relief."

"Hey, you need me to take him, I'll to it any time. You just have to ask."

Teyla and Evan shared a look, as the two of them had long since discussed the matter and agreed that it would probably be best if none of her teammates be left alone with a cranky child. The first dirty diaper would almost certainly lead to tears. Teyla didn't say that, of course, but instead said, "I will keep that in mind, but I believe Kanaan and I have things well in hand."

John shrugged. "Oh, before I forget -- Lieutenant Colonel, you need to take Reed off the patrol rotation." John looked around the table. "You know how me and Rodney got called away in the middle of the party last night?"

"You missed all the fun," Ronon grunted, while Teyla nodded.

"Reed tripped down the stairs and managed to bust open one of those glowy bubbly things on the way down," John explained. "Then the water shorted out the artificial gravity, turned it on in reverse. It was hilarious."

"It was absurd," Rodney said, although he was grinning too. "You had the idiot flyboy floating about with a pair of marines and all these globs of water. Took forever to fix, but I think it was worth it for their expressions as the gravity returned."

"At which point Reed broke his leg and we had to call Keller," John finished. "Anyways, Lieutenant Colonel, he's down for a few days, so it might affect that schedule thing you make me approve all the time."

"Hmmm." Evan thought for a second and frowned. "I was planning on taking him on the mission tomorrow. I know we've had bad luck before, but I think this is the first time we've broken a new officer before even leaving the city. Still, he can come on the next one, and I'll take Corporal Maynard instead. Sound good to you, Colonel?"

"Works for me, Lieutenant Colonel." John pointed at a bowl of chopped fruit on his tray. "Did you get any of these melon thingies? They're delicious."

Evan frowned. "No, I must have missed them, Colonel."

"Here, you can have some of mine, Lieutenant Colonel." John scraped some of his fruit onto Evan's plate, then stabbed one with a fork and held it out. Evan leaned forward and ate it, humming with pleasure as a sweet cherry-like taste filled his mouth.

Apparently that was the last straw for Rodney, who snapped, "Are you two going to be like this all day?"

"Like what?" Evan asked Rodney, before looking at John. "Do you know what he's talking about, Colonel?"

"Nope." John shrugged. "But you know what he's like before he's had his coffee fix, Lieutenant Colonel, especially after a long night partying."

Rodney glared at them balefully. "I mean this stupid emphasis on your ranks. With two of you at it it's exponentially worse than last time."

John's grin widened. "I think someone's grumpy that they can't get a shiny new rank, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Don't worry, Rodney," Evan said. He reached out and patted Rodney arm, jerking back before Rodney could do something painful like bite his hand off. "Some day you'll get a super-doctorate or something as cool as being a colonel."

"You know, this is exactly why your, your, significant other or whatever the hell you're calling each other shouldn't be invited to team breakfast," Rodney grumbled into his coffee. Keller chose that moment to swoop in and sit down at the far end of the table next to Ronon, way too cheerful for the time of day.

"Hey guys, Teyla." Everyone greeted her, and Evan could have sworn that Ronon's grunt was somehow shy, as little sense as that made. Keller looked across the table to tell Evan, "Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Lorne." Rodney groaned slightly and she pushed on. "Sorry I didn't catch you last night, but I had to take care of Flying Officer Reed's leg, and by the time I got to the party you'd snuck off somewhere."

Rodney snorted. "Snuck off. You mean him and Sheppard were screwing each other senseless in - ow!" John had smacked the back of his head, but even as he rubbed at the spot Rodney went on. "Please, it's not like everyone doesn't know it. You even had a half-dozen marines hauling a bed across the city and putting it together. Subtle, you are not."

"You still can't say that!"

"Well, if you don't want people talking, you shouldn't be flaunting your relationship."

John glared at Rodney for a long moment, then slowly his frown turned into a mischievous smile He leaned across the table to stage whisper, "You know, Lieutenant Colonel, I'm thinking Rodney here is jealous of more than just the promotion."

"I most certainly am not!" Rodney sputtered.

Evan sat back and studied the scientist as he and John continued to bicker. It wasn't likely, but it was possible John was closer on the mark than he thought. John and Evan had been spending a lot of time together lately, and while it had mostly been work-related as they got prepared for the major changes that were expected to start after disclosure came in January, Evan could see why Rodney might believe John wasn't paying as much attention to him as he used to. Certainly John spent more time with Evan than Rodney ever had with Katie, and the Big Accidental Breakup had probably left Rodney feeling even more left out.

On the other hand, he was fairly sure Rodney wasn't jealous of their relationship. He certainly hadn't said anything, and it wasn't for lack of opportunity. That Rodney hadn't said anything had actually surprised Evan, because ever since Katie had left he'd been waiting for the man to latch onto John even tighter than before. Going into the relationship he'd honestly half-expected the pair to come as a package deal, and yet as far as he could tell John hadn't more than looked at Rodney in the year they'd been together. Evan knew John would never cheat, but it still didn't stop him from being surprised from time to time.

Evan would have to look into the matter. He didn't want to monopolize John and steal him from his friends, after all, especially since they were his friends too. A lonely Rodney wasn't a good thing for anyone, either, and if Rodney wanted more time with John or more than just time... well, Evan felt secure enough in his relationship that he wasn't going to object.

"You're thinking about something," Teyla murmured, causing him to look away from the squabbling pair. He shrugged and grinned back.

"Just pondering certain people," he replied, nodding slightly towards John and Rodney. "Nothing important."

"Ah." There was something in her smile that made him wonder if he'd been showing his thoughts, and he fought a blush as he leaned in closer.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you'd have a few minutes this afternoon. I've got some ideas for some landscapes I'd like you to check out. I was thinking they might be good for the baby's room."

"That would be wonderful, Evan," she said, clearly delighted by the idea. This time he did blush. He had a horrible soft spot for kids, and since he wasn't likely to have any of his own, he was already planning on spoiling his new sorta-kinda nephew rotten.

"I'll catch you after your class, that sound good?" Teyla was still running the self-defense courses for the civilians, never mind something as trivial as a lack of sleep. When Teyla nodded, he grinned and checked his watch. "I'll see you then. Right now I've got to drag the colonel off to meeting."

"Good luck."

"I'll probably need it." Evan tugged of John's sleeve. "Come on, sir. Duty calls."

"But I'm not finished with -" Ronon stole the last of John's waffle "- never mind"

**\--- 4.2 ---**   
_(August 7, 2009)_

John stretched and groaned as he walked into a tiny room near the base of the control tower. It'd taken him almost twenty minutes to find where it was hidden away deep inside the building at the end of a series of small corridors, which had been just enough time to start feeling his newest set of bruises. He had been sparring with Ronon right up until he'd gotten a call from Rodney asking for his help. More accurately, Ronon had been demonstrating some one-against-many techniques on him, Stackhouse, and Ward, which mostly involved tossing the three of them around in front of the new marines. The summons had probably saved him from no small amount of pain and humiliation.

"Rodney, you around here somewhere?" John asked, looking around the room. It was smaller than the typical labs, with a larger number of the big screens than usual. At the center was a hexagonal console with a translucent column sticking out of the center. John couldn't see any obvious purpose for that workstation, but there rarely was any sign with these things. It might make ice cream, it might make exploding frogs. It was hard to tell.

Rodney popped up from behind the center console. "Ah, Colonel. About time you showed up. I need you to touch something."

He waved John around to join him and pointed at that section of the console. There was a keyboard and display, plus a panel that was about the right size for a hand to go on. John eyed it dubiously. "Why me? And what's it going to do?"

"I need you because it's not cooperating," Rodney said, obviously exasperated at either him asking questions or the machine not turning on for his inferior fake gene. "It's just an activation switch for an extra computer system, which I think will help us out a lot with keeping the city operational. Don't worry; I checked everything in the room already. There's no death ray or anything."

"Okay," John said, placing his hand on the panel. It lit up orange and for a moment John had the disconcerting feeling of something rummaging though his head. Then there was a mental click, the panel turned green, and the console's central column started to glow with a hum. The console's other controls also activated, and Rodney gleefully sat down at one bank and starting tapping at the keys. John gave him a minute to say something, but nothing was forthcoming.

"Well, Rodney? Anything happening?" John pressed the panel again, but it didn't do anything.

"It lit up, which is more than it did for me," Rodney replied, not looking up from the display he was studying. "Hmm, yeah, looks like the system's online. See, on this screen you can watch it interacting with the rest of the computer network now."

John walked around to Rodney's side and leaned over his shoulder. "So this is going to make things run smoother, right?"

"Well, it should. If I'm reading this right, and of course I am, this is some kind of central city management program that will tie all the city's systems into a unified control interface. We'll be able to alter subsystems with more finesse - for example, having the quarantine protocols lock down single rooms instead of most of the city - and we could make those changes without unknowingly causing side effects in other areas."

John nodded. It would certainly be nice to have that kind of assurance. Three and a half years in, and they still kept getting surprised by emergency procedures built into the city, among other things. "Right, like not finding out climate control was broken until the middle of winter. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, all things considered."

"Yes. Well. It still was a bit inconvenient." Rodney blushed and looked away from John's completely innocent expression. "Anyways. We should also get better power management, maybe even turn off all those stupid exterior lights at night."

"Oh, wow. That's just...." John put his hand to his heart. "We can turn off the lights. I think I may have to sit down."

John did so at the next station over, while Rodney loudly continued, "The point is, Colonel, that things will run smoother. At least they should, assuming you didn't screw something up."

"Hey, all I did was think on," John said. "You're the one pushing buttons, so if anything is screwed up, you did it."

"I most certainly did not. I just opened up a diagnostic, not put in any commands, so if --" Rodney was cut off when a familiar song suddenly started to play from the room's intercom.

_And believe me I am still alive.  
I'm doing science and I'm still alive.  
I feel fantastic and I'm still alive.  
While you're dying I'll be still alive.  
And when you're dead I will be still alive.  
Still alive.  
Still alive._

The music ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving John and Rodney staring at each other. After a moment, Rodney looked up at the ceiling and growled, "Okay, did you just hear that? I swear, if someone's screwed up hooking their computer in the city's AV system again, they're going to pay dearly."

John grinned. "Going to run experiments on the ones you leave alive?"

"You know, most people stopped quoting that stupid game months ago," Rodney complained, as if he hadn't been playing it as much as everyone else.

The console chose that moment to chirp, and they found the displays had suddenly opened up new windows. There was a text prompt, and a single-line message: _"Hello, John. Hello, Rodney. Would you like to play a game?"_

Rodney's eyes bugged out. "Okay, that's not good. Really, really not good. Whatever you do, don't say yes."

"It's probably just Zelenka or one of the IT guys playing around," John said, already reaching for his keyboard and typing in, _"Maybe?"_

"This is Atlantis, Colonel!" Rodney said. "It's not Zelenka, it's some sort of AI that wants to bomb us or eat our brains."

_"I most certainly do not, Chief Scientist M Rodney McKay,"_ the screen displayed with another chirp.

"It's spying on us!" Rodney squeaked.

John just said, "Cool. Hey, you got a voice?"

A woman's voice that John didn't recognize came from the speakers. It was slightly bland and generic, more in line with what an average idealized woman would sound like than a real individual. _"I do, if that's your preferred method of address, my dear friend."_

John eyed Rodney, deciding that maybe he was on to something with the pessimism. He started looked at his console for an off switch. "Right...."

_"I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard. Was that an inappropriate manner off address? My translation routines are a bit rusty, and I'm still absorbing cultural references."_

John settled for putting his hand back on the panel that had turned the machine back on while he asked, "Yeah, just a little. Who are you?"

_"I am the city's central control and management intellect, sir."_

"So it is an AI," Rodney said. He tapped his fingers on the workstation. "Have you been here the whole time or what?"

_"Strictly speaking, I have been present since the city's construction was finalized. However, I have been in hibernation mode since shortly after the city was submerged."_

"But now you're active again. Are you just in this room, or already connected to the rest of the city?"

_"The control console you are at is my core unit, which is at the center of a distributed system spread through the city. That system is now online and reconnected with the remainder of the city network. Would you like a status report, Doctor McKay?"_

"Uh. No, I'm good right now." Rodney seemed a bit confused that the mystery AI was being helpful, and to be fair John was a bit surprised as well. They couldn't actually be having a bit of good luck, could they? "So you're an entirely separate AI from what we've been interacting with, then?"

_"Strictly speaking, you've been interacting with a number of separate systems individually. I am intended to act as a central point of interaction for humans and the city's subsidiary control system. I also mediate between those systems when policy decisions are not necessary in order to facilitate smooth operations."_

"So basically you're just middle management?" John asked. It seemed like an appropriate analogy to him. For that matter, it seemed to be essential what Lorne and the senior noncoms did every day. "We give you instructions, and then you direct the rest of the city in carrying them out?"

_"Precisely. Atlantis has over five hundred and twenty expert systems designed to manage the various functions of the city with only minimal intervention of the control room staff. However, as they were designed and implemented at different times, they do not always work well together. A consensus-based central control intellect was created to make them function harmoniously, again with minimal human intervention. Policy is set by human commanders and critical decisions are still made by human staff. The control intellect simply assists with carrying out those decisions. With the intellect offline, the systems reverted to local or manual control."_

"Okay, when you say expert systems, what do you mean?" John asked.

"It's like a very specialized AI," Rodney replied. "They have a complex decision tree that lets them do a single set of tasks very well, but not much else."

John shook his head. "Yeah, I know that, but I wanted real examples from the city."

_"Take life support. It has a primary management system, underneath which is the municipal water system, underneath which are more subsidiary systems such as waste reclamation and water purification. An example of a higher-level expert system is the quarantine protocols. Unfortunately, it appears there have been several incidents where these systems have malfunctioned and the human staff has lacked the proper training and override codes to correct the malfunctions during emergencies."_ The city sounded almost apologetic, but John knew that could be just good programming as much as any actual feeling. _"If you wish, new codes can be put in place and the training manuals located."_

"Wait. You can override the existing codes? Even the ones we put it place, like the lockdown commands?" John asked with a frown. If it was really that simple, there could be some serious issues. The fact that he and Rodney already knew each other's command codes was bad enough, but some outside entity having that kind of access was a major security issue.

_"Of course. As the highest-ranking civilian and military officials in the city, you can easily overwrite the restrictions put in place by the primitive alien computer system you currently use."_ That was said in a decidedly snooty voice. Either the Ancients had programmed the AI to act disdainful about anything not Ancient, or it really did have feelings and felt insulted to have their 'primitive' computers grafted onto it.

"Wait - we're the highest ranking people in the city?" Rodney questioned. "What about Woolsey? He's in charge of us."

_"External rankings are irrelevant. John Sheppard was first command officer to activate the city and thus has seniority. John Sheppard has stated Rodney McKay to be his civilian equal. Finally, Richard Woolsey is human and thus not qualified for command in any case."_

"Makes sense. Helia was able to override everything, and now it's just reverted back to you again," Rodney said slowly. He looked at John, gears clearly turning in his head as he absorbed those statements. After a minute, he said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Pinky?"

"I'm thinking that we need to get to know our new friend here a little better," John replied. "Hey, computer, you have a name?"

There was a momentary pause, then the city replied, _"This unit was typically referred to simply as city or computer, except by certain individuals."_

"How does Mike sound?" John looked at Rodney and silently dared him to object.

_"Any designation you wish to use is acceptable, Commander. My study of your literature suggests 'Mike' is an appropriate one."_

"Of course it is," Rodney muttered with a snort. "Okay, Mike, first order of business - don't tell anyone else you exist unless we tell you to. No one, got that?"

"Lorne and Zelenka are fine, though," John quickly added. "In fact, put them in as our second in commands or whatever's closest."

_"Command executed. Legatus Laure- I'm sorry, translation error again. Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne added to command list. Doctor Radek Zelenka given special designator status and added to command list."_

John grinned. This day was already looking up, although there were still a few nagging concerns that he needed to take care of. "Rodney. Get Zelenka and Kusanagi down here. I want you to examine every line of code and circuit this thing has until you're sure it's safe."

Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "Of course. Do I look stupid?"

"Then, if it checks out, we're going to sit down and figure out exactly what Mike here can do for us." John already had dozens of ideas about what might be possible. Even if Mike turned out to be little more than a good watchdog or Ancient Google, it'd be a huge benefit to everyone. The thought of not having to worry about the city randomly locking down would be nice, for one thing, and with only one ZPM every watt of power they could save might be essential some day. Who knew what possibilities might pop up once they had time to think this through?

Time in this case turned out to be "a few hours." The AI was helpfully calling up its own schematics so the geeks could tinker with it and make sure it wasn't innately evil, while simultaneously discussing the finer points of early vs. late Heinlein with John. He happened to mention replicators (the Star Trek kind, not the robot spider kind), Mike said, "Actually, they're more like, ah, nanolathes, I believe is the reference," and then Rodney was shouting and flailing and demanding explanations. A few moments later that was followed by him hugging John and manfully jumping away with a red face and a gleam in his eyes that told of rapidly-forming plans for world domination, or possibly just science. It was hard to tell with Rodney.

**\--- 4.3 ---**   
_(October 31, 2009)_

Evan was hard at work in the office one afternoon when without warning the lights momentarily dimmed. He glanced up at the ceiling, closed out the files he was working on, stood and stretched, and was reaching for his uniform jacket when his radio beeped.

"Colonel Lorne, this is control. We have a small situation."

Evan toggled his earpiece on, wondering what it could be. John's team was off-world, which usually meant a calm day baring the need for a rescue mission, but you could never be sure. "What's up, Chuck?"

"We just had a momentary power surge from the, ah, construction site on the east pier. Mr. Woolsey was in the control room at the time and saw the location; he's heading out that way now. I thought you might want to know."

"Thanks, Chuck. I'll take care of it."

Evan grabbed a few things he'd prepared for just such an eventuality, and then headed for the nearest transporter. He wasn't worried about Woolsey getting there first, because the transporter nearest the fabrication center and construction bays was restricted to authorized personnel only, with anyone else trying to come that way being diverted to a transporter a good ten minutes' walk away.

When Evan arrived, he took a look around the room to make sure the really was nothing wrong. The construction bay itself was about twenty meters wide and sixty long, with doors leading further into the city's industrial complex along one side and a retractable ceiling. Sitting in the center was the boxy shape of _Asimov_; the first spacecraft built in Atlantis is ten thousand years. It was a modest affair as starships went, barely worthy of the title.

_Asimov_ was fifty meters long, ten wide, and about eight tall, roughly the same size as a C-17 Globemaster without its wings and tail. The ship would serve much the same purpose as the plan once it was done, too, as it was essentially a cramped control and passenger deck, drive system, and a cargo bay just large enough to hold a jumper, either intact or in pieces. She wasn't much to look at, either, as she was little more than a brick with a sloped front, a ridge running down the spine holding various sensors and drone ports, and two cylindrical drive nacelles stuck on to the sides. Maybe _Asimov_ wasn't the biggest ship around, or the best armed, or best at anything else for that matter, but she was theirs. Evan didn't have much to do with her yet beyond finding scrap metal to feed into the fabricators, but he still had a certain pride in knowing that this was something that they'd managed to create on their own.

The sound of cursing drew Evan's attention and he followed it around to the rear of the ship. The big ramp leading to the cargo bay was open and inside Evan saw Radek and another engineer he didn't quite recognize standing up on scaffolding against the forward bulkhead. Radek was waving his hands at something inside an open hatch in the wall and shouting at it in Czech, while the other man was also shouting, only in French. Evan could only make out a few words, but they were definitely of the sort that even his hippy mother would have smacked him for using.

"Everything all right, guys?" Evan called out. The two civilians turned to stare at him, then after a moment Radek climbed down from the scaffold while his companion reached into the hatch and began pulling things out.

"Yes, yes, very fine," Radek said when he reached Evan. "You know this ship is attached to power grid so we may test various systems, yes? And you know how ship will have special subspace capacitor disc for main power, yes? Well, we inserted capacitor into position to test it, and schooop!" Radek clapped his hands together. "It began drawing power. Lots of power, in fact, until it tripped the breakers."

Evan winced in sympathy and nodded. "Typical Ancient malfunction. Listen, Woolsey noticed it and he's headed this way."

"Yes, so the sergeant said. I was just about to go make sure everything important was closed up and locked. Would you mind terribly taking care of dealing with officious bureaucrat while I do so?"

"No problem, doc." Since Woolsey's arrival he had become something of the expedition's faceman for dealing with Woolsey on matters that didn't require the direct attention, in no small part because Woolsey seemed to regard him as the closest thing to a kindred spirit he had on Atlantis. That was largely because Evan dealt the more practical matters of the expedition, like supply requisition and personnel issues, far more than anyone else except possibly Keller and the quartermaster. Woolsey didn't always understand high-energy physics or military strategy, but he did understand budgets and logistics. It didn't hurt that Evan made sure to occasionally shoot down some of John's wilder schemes (not all of them serious) on practical grounds.

When Woolsey arrived, Evan was waiting for him at the door and greeting him with a smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Woolsey."

"Colonel Lorne."

"I imagine you're here for the same reason I am. It was just an equipment malfunction, nothing to worry about."

"So Sergeant Fraser said, but I couldn't recall there being any active labs out here and so I thought I would see if I had... missed... something." Woolsey trailed off as he looked over Evan's shoulder. "Is that a space ship?"

Evan stepped aside to give Woolsey a clearer view. "Yes, sir. That's the _Asimov_. Some of the engineers have been working on her in their free time over the last several months. It's just a personal hobby, that's probably why you missed it on the tour and progress reports."

"A hobby? Colonel, while it's good for people to find constructive ways to relax, this is not reasonable! A hobby is something like building model boats, not building life-size spaceships! That thing must be two hundred feet long."

"What can I say, they're engineers," Evan said with a shrug. "I like to paint, they like to build things. If you think about it, what they're doing is a lot more practical. Once they're done, this should be a major asset for the expedition."

Woolsey crossed his arms and his voice was full of skepticism as he said, "Is that so?"

Evan was already prepared for this eventuality. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he unfolded and handed to Woolsey. "I'll admit, I was skeptical at first, but then I ran the numbers. First off, it will significantly reduce our response time to off-world emergencies where the gate is unusable. Rather than having to rely on a 304 being present, we would be able to take action on our own, which dramatically increase survivability for teams trapped off-world."

Woolsey nodded slowly, because for all that he was a penny-pincher at heart exposure to the realities of what could happen away from Earth had driven home how essential quick rescue could be for saving lives.

"Also, another factor is the costs involved in using a 304 even when one is around, especially when heavy firepower or large carrying capacity isn't required. The sheet you're holding is my estimate for the time Lt. Cipolla's team was stranded on P1X-908 when the gate was flooded. There's the additional hazard pay for the team, fuel expenditure for _Daedelus_, and wear and tear on their hyperdrive from ten unnecessary hours of flight along with the associated maintenance costs. There's also the medical costs that resulted from the delay in pickup, specifically treatment of Dr. Overy's pneumonia. In all, it comes to nearly a quarter-million dollars."

Woolsey's eyes had started to glaze over, but he all but jumped at the figure. "That much?"

Evan nodded solemnly. "I'll admit, it's a cautiously pessimistic estimate, but probably one more conservative than the IOA would use if they evaluated things, and it doesn't incorporate intangibles such as how much danger the team could have been in if _Daedelus_ had not been inbound already. I can email you the details and some analyses of similar situations that have come up before."

"Well, so far what you've said is quite convincing," Woolsey said, "but surely this little project of yours has costs of its own?"

"Oh, not really, no," Evan said with a shake of his head. "We're careful only to use recycled parts or things we can construct from materials on hand. People only work on it during their off-duty time as well. Fuel costs will be minimal as it uses locally-scavenged naquadah and it has an Ancient capacitor to store solar and thermal energy to run most of the secondary systems. Think of _Asimov_ as being a little electric hybrid compared to _Daedelus_ being a big diesel-guzzling IFV."

Woolsey nodded again, but he still had a grumpy look on his face, or at least one that was grumpier than usual. "Well, it sounds very impressive, but I still don't understand why I wasn't informed of it."

Evan shrugged and did his best to look apologetic. "In the past personal projects like this were fine with Dr. Weir and Colonel Carter, so no one thought to ask you. We also wanted to have something tangible to show you as a proof of concept."

"Well, I suppose that is understandable," Woolsey said, "but in the future I'd appreciate being informed before something of this scale is started."

"Of course, sir. I'll pass that along to everyone." Evan said. They weren't planning on starting anything this size anytime soon anyways -- although 'starting' was the key word there. A second ship, a tugboat that was little more than two big engines and a tractor beam, was already planned and off-world Simpson and Kusanagi were slowly refitting the ZPM station. Woolsey definitely didn't need to know about those.

"See that you do. And when you get a chance, I'd appreciate a progress report and a cost-benefit analysis." Woolsey's voice grew wry and he smiled slightly. "I would ask the engineers themselves, but they seem to have trouble translating their work into normal English."

Evan smiled back. "I hear you, sir. I'll have it on your desk within a couple of days."

"Very good. I'll leave you to it, then. I'm sure you have other things to do. Good day."

Once the door closed behind Woolsey, Evan called out, "You guys hear that? No more secret spaceships!"

Radek poked his head around the ship's tail. "Did he say anything about death rays?"


	5. Unexpected Exposure

**\--- 5.1 ---**   
_(November 15, 2009)_

One warm and breezy morning in November found the command staff sitting in the conference room for an emergency meeting called by Woolsey. Most of them were looking decidedly rumbled and tired, because he'd pulled them out of bed an hour before dawn. John sometimes suspected that if the Wraith attacked at around five, the only thing between the city and certain destruction would be the night shift and Ronon, at least until some emergency coffee could be distributed.

"We have a problem," Woolsey told the senior staff.

"Imagine that," John replied. Given the time, anything less than a city- or galaxy-threatening disaster was practically guaranteed suicide-by-McKay.

Woosley went on as if he hadn't even spoken. "Two hours ago, at around 0600 local time, the USS _Yorktown_ was returning to Area 51 from its shakedown cruise when it experienced an explosion in its port sublight engine. At the moment it looks like it was a genuine malfunction and not sabotage. As explosions go, it was fairly small - no major damage and only a few minor injuries."

"So the Navy had an accident with their new toy," John said, leaning back in his chair. "What's it got to do with us?"

"They were in the middle of reentry when the engine gave out and were forced to make an emergency landing not far outside of Las Vegas." Woolsey turned to the room's large display and turned it on with a remote. On the screen was a recording from a CNN broadcast, showing first video of the ship passing overhead with smoke trailing behind it, and then a second scene where the downed cruiser-carrier was sitting in the desert, with small figures scurrying at the base its huge shape and emergency vehicles parked next to it. "Just about every major U.S. news network had camera crews on the scene before the ship could lift off again or we could secure the area. Needless to say, keeping the program secret is now out of the question."

"This can't be happening," Rodney said, exchanging horrified looks with Zelenka. "We're not ready to publish!"

"I think we've got a bigger problem than that, Rodney," John said as he continued to watch the screen as the little ticker at the bottom said things like 'government conspiracy' and 'alien invasion'. Given that the ship had "Yorktown" written in large letters on the side, right under an American flag, he wasn't sure where they were getting the latter.

"The president is going to be making an address this evening. Right now, I don't have any idea exactly what he's going to say or how much of the program is going to go public. For the time being, we're going to just keep operating as we were. Remind everyone that even if he does tell the public about the stargate program, that does not necessarily include us, and that public revelation does _not_ mean declassification." Woolsey looked right at Rodney as he said that, but he was too busy muttering darkly with Zelenka to even notice. "Everything is still top secret until explicitly declared otherwise. That means no writing home and telling mom about space vampires, or spamming the Nobel committee with your latest work."

"Oh, ouch," John said with an exaggerated wince. He nudged Evan with his elbow and grinned. "Looks like your rock stuff will have to wait until next year, Lorne, but I'm sure you'll get the prize then."

"I'll find some way to live, sir," Evan replied in a deadpan. Across the room, the scientists turned as one to glare in their direction.

"Very funny, colonels," McKay said. A smarter man might have shrunk back, but to John the combination of sleepy grouchiness and annoyance in McKay's voice was more amusing than threatening. "Excuse us if we're a bit anxious to publish before those morons at Area 51 can steal all our world-shattering research. You might be satisfied with your little promotions and shiny medals, but we'd like some actual recognition."

"He would also like to destroy his enemies and hear the lamentations of their women," Zelenka added.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, but I thought that went without saying."

John started to open his mouth the reply, but Woolsey interrupted before he could respond. "As I understand, we're just talking about a few weeks here. As far as I know, we are still sticking with the original plans for declassifying and publishing academic work. No one's going to get ahead of you."

"Hmph. Fine," Rodney grumped after a few seconds. Even if he did find it amusing, John could understand where he was coming from. He'd heard the scientists complain often enough about the restrictions put on them by the need to keep the program under wraps. For people used to publish-or-die, it had to be nerve-wracking, especially when they saw researchers in the public sector being lauded work that they knew was wrong or worse yet; that they'd already figured out.

Fortunately, there were plans in place for dealing with the eleven years of built-up research -- John had looked into them himself, for a few papers he'd co-written about the jumpers and his re-re-revised doctoral thesis (which had been slightly delayed by a war and four years in the wrong galaxy). In the early years of the program an exasperated Daniel Jackson and a few other scientists had put together a system that at least resembled a proper publishing process. Peer review committees had been set up for the different fields, with scientists at the SGC and Area 51, plus a few outsiders like Jeannie Miller who had clearance, reviewing each others' work in preparation for eventual release. Now that disclosure was coming, everything was being put together for publication in several books and journals through the Air Force Academy. It wasn't perfect, but it would probably work well enough, assuming no mobs with pitchforks showed up demanding the heads of Jackson or McKay for destroying decades of work with each paper they put out.

On that thought, John turned to Woolsey. "We expecting any trouble?"

"There are already protests in Washington and a few other cities, plus a pretty big crowd growing at Area 51." Woolsey spread his hands. "No one seems to have caught on to the activity going on at Cheyenne, but given that amount of strange occurrences over the years, it's only a matter of time."

John nodded. "We'll probably be glad to be on this side of the gate for the next few weeks. I'd be amazed if there weren't riots, at least in a few areas. If Hayes and the other IOA leaders are smart, they'll try to draw this out, soften the shock."

"Are your people really going to react so violently?" Teyla asked, looking slightly bewildered at the idea.

"There's riots when the wrong team wins a soccer match, let alone when the U.S. government announces that space aliens exists and want to kill us all, and that it's been covering that fact up for eleven years," John replied. "We're strange like that."

"But surely this is a cause for celebration, not anger," she slowly. "Finding out that you are not alone in the universe would seem to be a joyous occasion."

"It's not quite that simple, ma'am," Evan said quietly. "This is going to throw a lot of people for a loop, especially some of the religious fundamentalists. Maybe if all the aliens we've met had been cuddly teddy bears we'd be okay, but given that half the time the aliens have wanted to enslave, kill, or eat us, a lot of a people are going to be scared."

Teyla nodded. "And scared people are rarely rational. I believe I understand."

Rodney paled. "Wait, wait. There are going to be a lot of nut jobs out there. It's great that we're on the right side of a shield, but what about people back home? Jeannie will kill me if something happens."

"The SGC is arranging extra security for family members," Woolsey told them. "With any luck, it shouldn't be an immediate concern, because we're not going to be handing out names beyond a few key personnel, at least not anytime soon. Most of the security will be for those aliens living on Earth."

"Makes sense," John said. He wasn't too worried about Jeannie's family, because she was only tangentially involved with the program. On the other hand, Colonel Carter's daughter Cassie was more likely to attract unwanted attention if word of her origin got out.

"That's all I have for now, so I'll let you go and get some breakfast. I'll make an announcement in an hour or two, and the SGC will dial in this afternoon after the president's address. I've asked them to record all the major new channels and other sources so we can keep up to date. For now, just try to field any questions you get the best you can. Dismissed."

Rodney and Zelenka practically shot out the door, no doubt running to grab some coffee before calling an emergency staff meeting of their own. Teyla, Ronon, and a barely-awake Keller followed, which left the two military officers alone with Woolsey.

John leaned back in his chair and stifled a yawn before saying, "With your permission, sir, I'd like to suspend all non-essential missions until the situation back home settles down a bit. The last thing the guys need is to be heading out while worried about this crap."

Woolsey nodded. "Granted. Oh, that reminds me. I have a message from General O'Neill specifically for the two of you. He wants to remind you to keep your heads down and noses clean until everything blows over. I can't imagine why he thought you needed a warning like that, Colonel Lorne, although he did say you should use 'any means necessary' to keep Colonel Sheppard in line."

"Hey, I can be good on my own!" John protested, which only earned him a raised eyebrow from Lorne and a skeptical look from Woolsey. "Really, just watch."

"I'll do my best, sir," Evan told him, ignoring John when he tried to look hurt. Some people just didn't have any sympathy, apparently. "As for the general and I, well, he has his reasons."

"If you say so," Woolsey replied. His expression made it clear that he couldn't quite believe Evan, who he viewed as something of a kindred soul, could actually cause enough trouble earn a cautionary message from Jack O'Neill, of all people. "In any case, I have a few things to do before I make my announcement. You two go ahead, there's no point in you waiting for me."

The officers left the briefing room and headed down the steps. Evan sighed on the way down. "Well. So much for careful planning. We're going to have to toss a lot of what we had in mind right out the window."

"Yeah, that sucks," John replied. "I guess this is what we get for spending time thinking ahead instead of just winging it."

"Just because that works for you and Rodney doesn't mean the rest of us have to live that way, sir."

"Oh, I don't know," John said. He smirked and prodded Lorne with his elbow. "Apparently someone back home thinks you might do something crazy."

Evan shook his head, and with a patronizing tone told him, "Again, sir, just because you and General O'Neill aren't right in the head, it doesn't mean the rest of need mental help."

"You're going to have to be extra careful, you know," John said, plowing ahead without regard to what Evan had said. "No more wacky antics."

"Of course, sir."

"Try not to anger any powerful alien species that might threaten the entire galaxy."

"I'll try my best, sir."

"Oh, and alien rituals - probably a good idea to stay away from those."

"Right, sir."

"Avoid any alien priestesses for the foreseeable future."

"Fuck you, sir," Evan growled even as he smiled broadly.

"Oh, definitely none of that, either," John said as they strolled into a transporter. "I mean, doing anything like this -"

He pressed the controls and at the same time pressed Evan up against the wall. The doors obligingly slid shut and gave John a few short moments to duck his head in and forcefully kiss Lorne. The transporter hummed around them as his tongue ran across Evan lips and teeth, and then just as suddenly as he had started John stepped back again. The doors opened again, and while Lorne watched him wide-eyed he finished his sentence, "- could get us in a lot of trouble. So don't do it."

He smirked and walked out of the transporter, and a few seconds later he head Evan running to catch up. "I'm going to kill you one of these days," Evan said, his harsh words belayed by the grin on his face. "Seriously. One day, I'm just going to get tired of putting up with your shit and the next thing you know I'll snap and shove you off a balcony."

"Colonel Lorne, I'm wounded," John said, placing his hand on his heart. "Also, I'm pretty sure death threats are another thing we should be avoiding."

"Fine," Evan said with an exasperated sigh. "I'll ask Teyla to hit you with sticks until you start acting like an adult, then."

"Teyla wouldn't do that to me," John said, scoffing at the idea. When Evan gave him a skeptical look, he reconsidered his statement and was forced to amend it. "Well, maybe she would if you asked nicely. But I can totally outrun her while she's got the baby sling on."

"I don't believe that, and you definitely can't outrun Ronon." Evan glanced up and down the corridor, then pulled John aside into an alcove. "Look, Colonel. John. I know you're just being yourself, but it wouldn't hurt to show at least a little bit of concern. This entire situation is going to be delicate enough as it is, and the last thing we need is for you to be doing your normal flippant thing while the entire world is... watching us and..."

Evan trailed off and his expression turned decidedly grumpy as John continued to smile at him. "Right. Clearly reasoning's not going to work here, is it?"

"I am using reasoning," John argued. "If I start acting like a typical officer, the men will freak out. They'll think I'm some kind of alternate universe Sheppard, or robot Sheppard, or evil clone Sheppard. If I got a hair cut, the entire place would dissolve into chaos. Face it, I'd just cause more trouble being 'normal' than being my usual self in the first place."

Evan gave him a slight nod and shrug to acknowledge that John had already ruined the marines for any future commanders. "What's it worth to you not to act up in front of any dignitaries or the media?"

John raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Bribery? Oh, Lorne. You were so perfect when you came here, and now look how far you've fallen."

"I'll do all your paperwork, for six months," Evan offered.

"You do it all anyways, and I'd just mess your system up if I did it myself," John reminded him. That was a bit of an exaggeration, and he wasn't as bad about filing reports and forms as he was rumored to be. Anything genuinely important like commendations or leave requests were done almost instantly and the same went for anything Evan sent across his desk for approval. It was things like supply expenditure spreadsheets that got trapped in limbo, to the point that Evan had thrown up his hands and started doing it all himself, taking over John's office in the process. It seemed like a fair enough deal - Evan got the extra-comfy couch and the better view, and John got more time to play video games.

"Radek's building me a laser gun. I'll make sure he makes one for you, too."

"Tempting, but nothing I can't get from Rodney." John would have to check that out, actually. He'd known they were working on better hand weapons, but not that they were anywhere close to producing some. He loved his P-90, but having something that could melt through walls and wouldn't take a full clip to kill a Wraith would be nice. Also, maybe he could finally get over his envy of Ronon's gun, which was a bit embarrassing.

Evan sighed, exasperated. "Blowjob. In the jumper. In flight, if that's what it takes."

"What, really?" John said in surprise. Evan had always been adamant about where he drew that particular line and made it clear that his thoughts on the matter were, 'not happening in a million years.' Some of that was the question of safety, although John insisted it wasn't any more dangerous than anything else they did on a daily basis. It was also possible Evan still had a small grudge from when John was teaching him to fly and had started showing off some very cool and very impressive maneuvers, which had left Evan puking in the rear.

"Any means necessary, John," Evan said, deadpan and unblinking.

"Oh, so you're just taking one for the team, then?"

Evan's lips quirked up. "I may have ulterior motives for my choice of bribes."

"Are we talking just a blowjob, or -"

"Don't push your luck, sir," Evan said, holding up a hand in warning.

"Well, that changes things," John said. "I think we may have a basis for some kind for agreement here. Tell you what, why don't we meet in my quarters tonight, for some more negotiations."

"Sounds like a plan to me, sir." Evan didn't look too put out about the thought of working out a compromise on the issue. It was times like this that reminded John exactly why he liked Evan so much, and why they fit so well together. The way he carried around C-4 most of the time was also a big plus.

With that issue settled, the two of them continued on to the mess. It was waffle day, which meant the room was more packed than usual for the hour. Rodney and Zelenka were already at a table out on the balcony along with Simpson and Kusanagi, their heads bent over laptops as they tried to talk, type, and eat at the same time. John and Evan took the next table over, not daring to sit with the scientists for fear of flailing-induced concussions. It wasn't long before Teyla joined them, followed soon afterwards by Ronon and Keller.

"Got enough there, big guy?" John said with a grin, nodding at the two trays Ronon was holding. "Keep eating like that and even you'll blow up like a blimp."

Ronon growled and put the trays on the table. Keller sat down in front of one, saying, "Thank you, Ronon. And Colonel, he's not the one who's gained five pounds this year."

"Hey! That's confidential medical information."

"Whoops," she replied innocently, "Sorry."

"No you're not."

Keller took a bite of her waffle and swallowed. "I'm very sorry. I feel horrible."

"Well, you should," John said with a nod.

"Perhaps if you kept up with your training better, you would not feel the need to hide your weight," Teyla said. John was saved from trying to come up with a retort that wouldn't get him tossed into the sea by yelling from the next table, where Rodney was waving and the other three were watching him.

"Sheppard! Which paper do you want first credit on?"

John blinked. "What?"

"Your name," Rodney said, like he was dealing with a five-year-old. "You get to have your name listed first on one paper. Which one?"

John frowned. "What, just one?"

"Just one of the big collaborative works. We're trying to figure out how to divide those up _fairly_ so everyone gets recognition." Rodney's eye roll and sigh made it clear exactly what he thought about fairness. "Come on, try keep up."

"Um. The one with the chair interface?" John shrugged. He'd already gotten his thesis on the jumper controls published, mostly for the pleasure of seeing Rodney's expression when he found out. Beyond that, he didn't particularly care. "If that's okay with Miko, that is."

"No, no problem at all," Miko replied while nodding rapidly.

"Hmm. Well, if he takes that one, then we need to give Miko another," Zelenka said, fiddling with his pen. "Perhaps the one on the hyperdrive collision sensors?"

"What? No, no, no, I see what you're trying to do, you sneaky bastard," Rodney protested. More yelling started, and John turned around and tuned them out again. Maybe he had been imagining things when Woolsey had told them they were still publishing on schedule - or maybe they'd all been procrastinating in the hopes of getting a few last papers ready, and were now frantically trying to work out all the details. He could guess which was the case.

Beside him, Evan shook his head. "I don't get it. Botany had everything ready a month ago."

"We can't all be botanists," John gently reminded him. Teyla nodded sagely.

"Indeed. Not everyone has the temperament and skill needed to tend plants."

"We heard that!" John could feel the heat of Rodney's scorn on the back of his neck. It was rather like a pleasant ray of sunshine.

"Zoology's like that, too," John told his group. "Oh, by the way, we probably need a PACMAN meeting soon. Tonight good for everyone?"

"Busy!" Rodney shouted. "What? No, you can't - well, okay, fine, Simpson. You can have the black hole, I didn't want it anyways."

John sighed and made a mental note to have Chuck round up some kind of chocolate as a lure. A moment later the PA clicked on. The entire room grew quiet as everyone waited to hear whether this was something good ('Botany has bred super-coffee!') or bad ('The planet is about to explode! Again.'), because as a rule it would be one or the other.

_"May I have your attention please? This is Richard Woolsey. I have the, ah, pleasure of telling you that due to an incident on Earth, the American government, in consultation with the other Stargate nations, has decided to disclose the program's existence a little ahead of schedule. This is, of course, quite unexpected, but at this time we do not expect this to affect operations in the city. I want to assure everyone that this is not due to any kind of disaster or attack. We will keep everyone posted on news from home as we receive it. If you have any questions or concerns, please address them to the command staff, and we'll follow them up as soon as possible. Thank you."_

The PA turned off, and a moment later every eye in the mess turned towards their tables. Conversation returned with a roar, and John could spot several people already getting up and heading their way. He immediately recognized this for what it was, namely a ploy by Woolsey to make sure he and Rodney were actually somewhere they could be found.

He glanced over his shoulder, and suggested, "We could go over the railing and climb down to the next level. Maybe hide out somewhere on the east pier."

"No," Evan replied, at the same time Teyla said, "You will simply have to endure."

"Damn." This was really going to suck.

**\--- 5.2 --- **

***click***

"-- and the President will be addressing a special joint session of Congress at six o'clock tonight. Speculation continues to run rampant, and thus far there has been little official word from the government beyond assurances that there is no danger at present. Pentagon spokesman Colonel Paul Davis did confirm that the spacecraft seen in Nevada was in fact a U.S. naval vessel and said that further information would be released after the President's speech --"

***click***

"-- this is clearly a sign from the Lord that the end times are upon us --"

***click***

"-- it certainly explains all those weird things that have been happening in the sky for a long time, all those bright lights and unidentified objects. This has to be connected somehow to the destruction on an entire Navy carrier group in a supposed meteor shower about four years ago, just days after President Hayes entered office, and I still can't understand why anyone ever bought such a blatantly impossible cover story --"

***click***

"-- even though Opposition leaders are being strangely quiet about the matter, the Prime Minister may be looking at a revolt in his own party --"

***click***

"-- growing crowds have caused some city officials are calling for the state to declare a state of emergency, but so far there seems to be no violence, at least in the western hemisphere and Europe --"

***click***

"-- we tried to contact Doctor Jackson, but he was last seen entering Cheyenne Mountain, former home of NORAD, along with an unidentified woman --"

**\--- 5.3 --- **   
_(November 15, 2009)_

It didn't take long for all activity in the city to grind to a halt, to the point that even Rodney gave in and let people have the day off. The control room staff and patrols were still in place, but otherwise most of the city began to gravitate towards the city's social centers. Soon the mess and lounges were packed. John ended up hiding in his office, which usually worked pretty well when he didn't want to be badgered with questions because it was usually the last place people looked for him. Unfortunately, it was one of the first places they looked for Evan at, and since Evan was there it meant John still had to come up with new and inventive ways of saying, "No one tells me anything." It was one of the few downsides of sharing an office with the man.

It was shortly after dinner that the SGC dialed in to send a databurst. There were a few vague orders about remaining calm, maintaining security, and the like that didn't even apply to them but had been sent out to every branch of Homeworld Security, but most of it was hours and hours of television footage from across the globe. The crown jewel of the set was the President's address to Congress. The other IOA leaders had actually been quite cooperative with letting him speak first. It had been an American ship sighted, after all, and the Stargate program had been American for most of its history. A more cynical person might also have pointed out that if anyone was going to attract the most blame for everything that had gone wrong over the years, it would be whoever the world saw first. Maintenance moved some of the larger displays to the mess and common areas so everyone could watch it and the endless commentary from around the world that would follow.

The command staff and department heads, minus Woolsey, commandeered one of the smaller lounges, the better to be prepared to face their staffs again afterwards. John was squeezed on a couch between Rodney and Ronon, while Evan and Teyla had claimed the next one over and were knitting various tiny pieces of clothing. All the other senior officers, noncoms, and science division heads ended up on whatever other chairs or flat surfaces they could find. Someone had broken out the popcorn, which John certainly wasn't going to complain about. Snacks were always good, and it certainly fit the lighthearted mood that was developing.

Zelenka finally got the video file loaded up, and the CSPAN recording came up. President Hayes was standing before a joint session of Congress, and began, _"My fellow Americans --"_

"Oh, here we go," Rodney said around a mouthful of popcorn.

_"-- no, my fellow people of Earth. I stand before you today to make momentous announcement, one that will shake the foundations of our entire society. It is thanks to the tireless dedication of countless men and women that this announcement is a happy one. Ladies and gentlemen - we are not alone in the universe."_

"You know, I think I've seen this movie already," John commented. "Is that cliche a cue to take a shot?"

_"For the past twelve years, the United States Air Force has been operating an interstellar transportation device called a stargate out of a facility inside Cheyenne Mountain. The stargate is of alien origin, and gives us access to a network of other gates on planets all across the galaxy. Since the gate has been opened, teams composed of military personnel and civilian scientists have explored thousands of other worlds. In recent years those teams have expanded to include members from dozens of other countries."_

Rodney rolled his eyes and inserted, "Not that Canadians weren't there from the start. We don't count, apparently."

_"Those teams have contacted countless other societies in their travels, societies of both displaced humans and true aliens, and brought back valuable knowledge that has allowed us to dramatically increase our level of technology to unimagined levels. The starship that you all witnessed earlier today is one example, but other discoveries of Stargate Command have already made their way into civilian life in countless products. We have also established peaceful and mutually beneficial relationships with many worlds. Here on Earth, new levels of international cooperation has been fostered, the prime example of which is the Atlantis Expedition, a civilian-lead international expedition to another galaxy."_

"I feel a 'but' coming here," John said.

"There's always a 'but'," Evan said quietly. "Has anyone seen the green yarn?"

_"However, not all contact has been as perfect as one would hope. Until recently, an species of parasitic aliens called the Goa'uld ruled most of the Milky Way, and held as slaves countless billions of humans. When they discovered that there was a planet of humans who lived freely, they tried to return to Earth and enslave us as well. Nor were they the only threat out there. Religious fanatics called the Ori also sought to conquer Earth, while in the Pegasus galaxy a species known as the Wraith literally feed on humans like herd animals. It is thanks to the brave men and women of Stargate Command and Atlantis that we have been able to defend ourselves time and again."_

Rodney shook his head. "Global panic in three... two..."

_"Several thousand lives have been lost in the defense of our world, both fighting out in the galaxy and here on Earth. I will not deny that there have been several times when all was nearly lost. We have always prevailed, though, and I am proud to say that we have made a difference out there. The Goa'uld System Lords have fallen and their empires destroyed, thanks to the efforts of the SGC and one group of people in particular, a team called SG-1. Now not only do we remain free, but the countless slave worlds that the Goa'uld once controlled are also free."_

"I suppose 'free' is one way of saying 'in complete chaos'," Evan said with a sigh. "Ronon, don't hog the popcorn."

"Sorry."

"Do all your leaders go on at such length?" Teyla asked. "He seems to say so little with so many words."

"You have no idea," John groaned. "I'm just glad I didn't have sit through the election campaigns this time around. Believe me, some of the speeches during those are as bad as any we've gone through on missions, and don't even get me started with the media."

"It's your own fault for having such absurdly long campaign periods," Rodney said. "If you put half as much effort into running the elections as you did blathering about them, maybe they'd go as smooth and painless as ours do."

"Maybe." John made a mental note - make sensible election laws when the time came.

_"...exploits are too many and too amazing for me to go into at this time. However, over the next several days, a comprehensive disclosure of the Stargate Program will begin. While some operational details must, by necessity, remain a secret to protect planetary security and to insure the safety and privacy of those involved, I promise that all of the essential information about what has happened and all that we have learned will be freely shared. The time of secrecy has passed, and now we enter a new age, one of open cooperation that will take all the peoples of this world to the stars."_

Rodney turned to Teyla again."Another difference in leadership style is that politicians have a tendency to tell everyone nice-sounding lies. What he really means is that there's going to be a mad tug of war over technology and ships, will all sorts of shouting and probably interstellar land grabs. Hell, even internally I bet the U.S. goes nuts over who gets to benefit from the shiny stuff."

"Oh, come on, McKay. We've done pretty well so far, we're not..." John's protest died unfinished as she started to think about the NID and just how hard it was to get the IOA to agree on anything, even without the general public involved. "Well, okay. You may have a point."

Teyla frowned at them. "I understand possible the international disputes, as not all nations contribute equally to gate exploration. However, why would there be internal problems with creating an equitable arrangement? The work was done by the government, should they not simply divide the gains evenly among the population? That is how my people deal with community trades and projects."

"Ah, ah, ah." Rodney shook his head at her. "That would be _communist_. These people won't even provide health care for everyone, let alone share advanced technology. The Republicans would throw a fit if they did something smart, like set up a non-profit to manage the patents and use the gazillion dollars they'll make to fund social programs. Who knows that the Chinese and Russians are planning."

_"... urge you to remain calm. There is no need for panic, and while some of you may be angry that we have concealed things for this long, I urge you to hold on to your anger and give us time to show you how greatly you have all benefited. This is a great day for all peoples of all nations, one that will be celebrated for centuries to come. With that in mind, I bid you all a good night."_

There was a great deal of clapping and more than a few fake smiles, which made John frown at the screen. "What, that's it? That was a lamest speech ever."

"It was a little short and sketchy on the details," Evan agreed. "Maybe it was more exciting if you didn't already live in another galaxy."

"Could have been worse," Zelenka commented. "At least this one can manage to put together intelligible sentences. Whole paragraphs, even."

"So..." John said into the growing silence. "Anyone want to watch the new Star Trek movie?"


	6. Universal Constants

**\--- 6.1 ---**   
_(December 11, 2010)_

A month into disclosure things were finally starting to settle back into some semblance of normalcy. Normalcy was, of course, a relative term. On Earth, most of the riots had stopped or failed to materialize, although sporadic protests were still occurring across the planet and there was an uneasy tension simmering beneath the surface. Some people were protesting because the government had held the gate a secret for so long, others were protesting because of the danger they felt the government had put them in by either 'idealistic intervention in other peoples' affairs' or 'resurgent Western imperialism'. The initial round of information releases had finished, including press tours of Stargate Command , selected parts of Area 51, and the _Apollo_. They had also released slightly sanitized mission reports and summaries of the current galactic political situation, along with years of declassified academic information. Everyone in the program knew that they were experiencing the calm before the storm -- a huge amount of information had been released and it would take time for it to be absorbed, but once it was there were inevitably be new and potentially larger problems coming up. There were already distant rumblings about Congressional inquiries.

On Atlantis, there had been virtually no change in operations, as they didn't even have to deal with increased security or crowds of people sitting around outside like the SGC did. Most missions were still on hold, except for those necessary to keep up with their treaty obligations. It was expected that sooner or later attention would shift their way and people from Earth would begin poking around, and already people were drilling for how to handle those situations. The last thing anyone needed was for the press to find some scandal or a loud-mouthed scientist to anger the wrong politician.

There were also other concerns, of course, which was why the recruitment team was holding an emergency meeting. While the department heads had final say in who was chosen to join the expedition, for the most part it was their seconds who handled all the actual grunt work of the process. Civilian recruitment had always been a slightly convoluted dance due to the need to secrecy and the unusual nature of the job, but for the most part it had always gone smoothly beyond the occasional interdepartmental squabbles and IOA national diversity pushes. Now everything had been thrown into chaos.

"We've got how many applications?" Evan asked. He was the military representative on the committee. While as the base XO he handled all of the military personnel decisions, he had a spot on the civilian recruitment team because he could give them an idea of what skills incoming military recruits possessed. He helped them weed out potential troublemakers who wouldn't fit into the city's close civilian-military cooperation or might be unable to deal with living in a war zone, and they gave him advice on what was would be helpful with his own selections.

"Twenty-five thousand," Radek said, looking extremely glum. Biro from medical, Parrish from bioscience, and Corrigan from social science didn't look any happier. Then Radek added, "In last week. Almost ten thousand week before that, and I have it on good authority that there are even more inquiries every day."

"This is going to be a mess," Parrish muttered. "Ten to one says almost all of them are useless."

Corrigan nodded. "New-agers wanting to live in the magical happy land of Atlantis."

"Crazy science geeks who want to explore strange new worlds full of wonderful peaceful life forms."

"Statistically, most of them will be ready to drop dead at any moment," Biro commented. "Which could be helpful for testing out some of the --"

"We get the idea, Marie," Evan quickly said. No one could deny that Biro was an excellent doctor and pathologist, but sometimes she could go off on weird and disturbing tangents. "Radek, how many people are we talking about actually choosing?"

"I have talked with Woolsey, Colonel Sheppard, and Doctor McKay about how much we can expand the population. Taking into account the budget, our available resources, the self-sufficiency goals, and the need to integrate new personnel at a manageable rate, we are thinking perhaps one hundred civilians. More later, if the budget improves. I understand you already have a round of military recruits already inbound."

"Yeah, although it's just a handful." There had been a burst of transfer requests, but as O'Neill had said virtually no expansion was actually authorized, and so they were stuck with the usual trickle of gene carriers. If anything, it made things a lot easier than having to weed out a hundred from a hundred thousand possible choices. "Are they leaving it up to just us?"

"More or less, yes. They will be doing tours of Earth soon, very busy schedules." Radek pushed his glasses up and looked at his computer. "I was thinking, this round we should focus more on practical skills."

Corrigan's eyes narrowed. "Define practical."

"Useful for keeping city running or out in the field, as opposed to theoreticians. We have been doing okay so far, but it would be helpful to have more than a choice between PhDs and marines for everyday work. I am thinking people with bachelors or masters degrees. Engineers in the hard sciences, especially civil or mechanical. Agriculture specialists. More nurses and surgeons. And yes, Corrigan, more translators and anthropologists, but ones who have a great deal of field work and negotiating experience."

There were nods around the table. There had always been a slight disconnect between what specialists they had and what they really needed. The original expedition had many people cross-trained in both physics and engineering, for example, but there had been a number of times since the reconnection with Earth that brilliant theoreticians had proven worse than useless when it came to doing more than just studying Ancient technology at a distance.

"We already did something like that with a couple of the soldiers whose hitches were up, I don't see any reason why we couldn't expand it," Evan said. "We might also start some kind of temporary guest system for visiting scientists who we don't want around all the time."

"We'll still need to find a way to narrow down the applicants to a manageable level," Parrish pointed out.

"I bet we can automate most of it. We've got access to government data sources, and the computing capability to make it workable," Evan said, thinking of their Friend the Computer. Mike was good at numbers and collating disparate sources of information, even if his social skills left a lot to be desired. Of course, they couldn't tell people exactly how that was happening in practice, but one benefit of having a selection committee composed entirely of browncoats was that they knew when not to ask questions. "We create some criteria to weed out ninety-nine percent of them, get some letters and real application forms from the rest, then narrow them down to an interview pool. The gene's an obvious criteria, although we don't want some asshole just because he has it."

"Yes, but baring obvious delusion they will be at least worth talking too," Radek said, making notes on his computer. "Other ideas? Beyond the usual, like military service and not being homicidal maniac."

"We can have every department put together a list of skills need and rank them by priority," Parrish suggested. "That way, if we get a lot we like, we'll have a way to cover the most bases."

"We should keep our current physical fitness standards, but factor in heritable diseases," Biro said. "Youth is also a bonus."

"We need more artists and musicians around here," Corrigan put in. That drew a few odd looks, and he defensively said, "I'm not saying it's vital, but it should be a factor. Sitting around playing computer games isn't exactly high culture."

"He's got a point," Evan said. After a few moments consideration, he told them, "I'd also say we should ask everyone already here for recommendations, and make that a big factor. Maybe the biggest."

"It'd sound a bit like nepotism, though," Parrish said, not so much objecting as pointing out what people would say.

"Yeah, but as long as they're still qualified, it shouldn't be a huge deal. We've already got several siblings and cousins thanks to gene screening, there's no reason not to add in friends too."

Everyone accepted that line of reasoning, and it didn't take much longer for a list of qualifications to be worked up. It was clear that it was going to be a huge pain in the ass, especially since the flood of requests they had gotten probably wasn't a fraction of what would come in once they actually announced that they were accepting applications for new staff. With any luck quick action on their part would prevent the IOA from trying to take control of the process themselves, which would cause far more trouble for them all. The work wasn't that bad, really, especially compared to what the command staff had to deal with at the same time.

**\--- 6.2 ---**   
_(January 7, 2010)_

Two weeks. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. Twenty-thousand one hundred and sixty seconds. That was how long they'd been stuck on Earth, testifying to Congressional and Parliamentary committees and being interviewed by every media outlet on the entire planet. Two long, horrible weeks when Rodney could have been doing something useful back home, like watching the Ancient paint dry or getting hit with sticks by Ronon. Perhaps the worse bit of the entire situation was the way he could imagine the power meters on the Atlantis and _Odyssey_ ZPMs ticking downwards with each person sent back and forth between home and Earth for stupid frivolities.

Then again, at least it meant he wasn't wasting six weeks stuck aboard ships on said frivolities. That didn't really help his mood much, though, and he made of attempt to hide that fact.

"Why, yes, I did in fact blow up a solar system. It was really rather enjoyable, once I got past the nearly dying part and the completely unprecedented failure," Rodney told the idiot in front of him. "And no, before you ask, I did not file any kind of environmental impact statement. Next question."

"I, ah, think that's enough for me," replied Senator Nitwit (D-Idiot Land), in a stunning display of previously unseen intelligence.

"Well, that was, um. Enlightening," said Senator Mildly Intelligent, the committee's chairman. "I believe that just leaves Senator Bloomfield before we finish for today. Senator?"

Rodney vaguely remembered from his pre-testimony briefing that the senator was a Republican (which was to say an evil extreme-right fascist, as opposed to a feel-good useless ninny) from... Georgia? No, Arkansas. Maybe. Some kind of swampy hell-hole full of bugs where it never dropped below thirty-five degrees, in any case. He didn't look chubby like a southern politician was supposed to, which just went to show how useful popular culture was. In fact, he looked rather like Rodney's grandfather, which probably was a bad sign given that his grandfather had been an evil bastard who thought dragging children out in boats to fish and get eaten by mosquitoes was fun.

"Good afternoon, Doctor McKay, and let me start by saying that it's an honor to meet you," Blofeld said with a friendly smile.

Rodney wasn't fooled. Friendly-looking politicians almost always wanted to feed you to a sacred tiger or rip your heart out to bless the fields or, worst of all, cut your funding. Nonetheless, he managed to work up a tiny smile and respond, "Thank you, and it's a pleasure to be here."

"I'll also say that I have nothing but the utmost respect for the members of the Atlantis expedition, both civilian and military."

Danger, Will Robinson!

"However, I have to ask, has the expedition really produced any results that have been worth all the effort put into it?"

"I'm sorry, did you miss the last two hours, where I explained in great detail just how much scientific progress we've made?"

"Yes, and it was all very impressive. However, I can't see a single thing here couldn't have been discovered if you'd all been working at Area 51 instead."

"Excuse us for not being able to catch up on five million or so years of Ancient technology overnight, senator."

The senator didn't even acknowledge him. "Meanwhile, back here at home we've got that Asgard core thing to work on, and from what I've heard about the little guys I can't imagine there's much in Atlantis that we won't find in there -"

"Five _million_ years," Rodney muttered. It wasn't like the Asgard datacore was terribly helpful anyways, because the damned interface was bitchy as hell when it came to handing out useful technology. Rodney would bet that Hermiod had been involved in creating it and had programmed the stupid thing to be difficult just to spite Rodney.

"- and given how little tangible, practical developments you've sent home I can't help but think it'd be better for everyone involved if we just brought you all home. Maybe we could leave a few people to keep stripping out anything useful, but continued exploration at this time would be would be just foolhardy at best. We've lost almost a hundred men and women, a quarter of them civilians, put the Earth at risk of invasion, caused mass havoc in another galaxy, and from what I can see the only real gains we've gotten so far are some interesting equations, some ideas on how to marginally improve on our existing advanced technology, and the ability to create some robots that instinctively wish to kill all humans."

Senator Blowhard stopped to take a drink of water and chuckled. "Sorry, I suppose I should fit a question in here at some point. Would you like to comment on anything I've said so far?"

Rodney sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Not just yet, although I'm wondering if there is a point to all this."

"My point, doctor, is that the entire expedition has been a waste of time, money, and lives. Given the danger that's involved with just being there, we never should have sent you all to Pegasus in the first place."

"Oh, I understand now. You're clairvoyant! I really wish you'd told us about the space vampires before letting us head off to another galaxy."

"Excuse me?" A few of the other senators winced at the indignant tone in Blofeld's voice, while others stared at Rodney in open shock. Somehow he got the idea that people didn't talk back to the idiot very often, and so Rodney decided that maybe it was time someone did.

"You implied that we should have known something would go wrong, but since it was a mission to an unexplored galaxy I can only assume that you can somehow see the future and expect us to have been able to."

"The very fact that it was such a shot in the dark is one more example of how fool-hardy the entire mission has been. Quite frankly it never should have been approved."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. We'd just fended off an entire alien fleet with an Ancient weapons system and now we had an opportunity to potentially explore an entire Ancient city; of course we took the chance. Besides, it's not like it was a huge waste of resources. There were what, a hundred thirty or so of us? Just a bunch of brilliant-but-weird people who thought that one-way missions were exciting and who wouldn't be missed. Other than me, of course, because I would have been a major loss to physics."

"Perhaps that's true," Blowhard spat. "But staying there afterwards was definitely a mistake! We could have pulled out of Pegasus and just left a handful of people to keep the city hidden, or destroy it if necessary, and then come back once we actually had the capability to fight the Wraith and when they might have been sleeping again. Instead we've only gotten more and more -"

Rodney interrupted him by saying, "Well, then, it's a good thing we're not quitters like you are."

Senator Blowhard was looking a bit apoplectic now, with his face, ears, and neck all turning a decidedly unhealthy-looking shade of red. Rodney spared a few seconds to hope that the man would have a stroke and the ensuing chaos would allow him to sneak away, but that burst of optimism was quickly quashed as Rodney remembered that nothing that helpful ever happened to him unless he did it himself. As Rodney could not kill things with his brain - yet - and there was no chance of Sheppard or Ronon blowing something up as a distraction, Rodney knew he would have to continue to suffer.

"Doctor McKay, it would really behoove you to start treating this committee with a little more respect, unless you want to be held in contempt!" Blowhard finally got around to saying.

"What, is that supposed to scare me? Please, you haven't even tied me up and threatened to suck my life out." Not impressed in the least, Rodney crossed his arms and shook his head. "Also, I'd just like to point out that I'm here as a courtesy. I'm not American and I don't even work for you. That's why I have an Order of _Canada_ and not an Order of That Place Below Canada."

"Don't you take that tone with me. We still pay the bills out there and if you think I can't have you fired in a second you've got another thing coming!"

"Give me a second to think of how to respond. No, wait, brain the size of a planet, I don't need time to think. Hmm hmm." Rodney took a deep breath and, more than a little off-key (he was pianist, not some sort of stupid vocalist), began to sing, "O Canada! Our home and native land! True patriot love in all thy sons command...."

The senator continued to screech incoherently and Rodney continued to sing until the committee chairman nearly broke his gavel from pounding on the table and finally shouted, "Will you two to shut up?"

"Sorry, sorry," Rodney said. "I was suddenly overcome by an unexpected bout of patriotism."

"That's enough, doctor," Senator Marginally Intelligent said firmly. He looked over at Blowhard, who couldn't even manage to form a word, which made Rodney worry, just a little, that maybe he really had managed to give him a heart attack or something. Stupid off-world leaders and their health conditions. "While we all, ah, appreciate you being here, doctor, your behavior is definitely unacceptable. Still, since we were about finished anyways, I think it'd be best to adjourn and let everyone cool down."

Rodney could live with that, even if he'd have liked to see them try to keep him in a jail.

**\--- 6.3 ---**

***click***

"-- at a ceremony in Moscow the prime minister announced that the newest Russian starship, the _Yuri Gagarin_, is now beginning operational trials. This will the second Russian-operated starship, following the _Sergey Korolyov_ which was lost in combat several years ago --"

***click***

"-- petroleum prices dropped steeply after a joint U.S.-Japan project unveiled new pure-electric car engines that will be incorporated into next year's production lines --"

***click***

"-- it actually turns out that Doctor Parrish is still wanted in Colorado, because he disappeared from a jail cell two years ago in the middle of an investigation. No one really denies that his actions were in self-defense, but still, leaving the planet after killing a man is more than a little dubious --"

***click***

"-- really, it's a good thing that the Asgard are gone, because the number of lawsuits for sexual harassment they'd be facing would be astounding --"

***click***

 

"-- and as you can see, it was only pagan gods that the Goa'uld and Asgard took the forms of. Clearly even they did not try to masquerade as The _Lord_, for they feared his power, and it was that power that allowed our Christian soldiers to defeat the Ori as well --"

***click***

"-- obvious proof that life beyond this one does exist. It is our sincere hope that one day Doctor Jackson will set aside his study of the past and lead us all to enlightenment --"

***click***

"-- the stock prices across the world continue to fluctuate by unprecedented margins as the markets react to constant new disclosures --"

***click***

"-- interviews Colonel John Sheppard and Doctor Rodney McKay, tonight on a special edition of The Daily Show."

**\--- 6.4 ---**

By the end of the second week, John was completely exhausted, and even Rodney was starting to look under the weather. They still had almost another week before they could leave the planet, by which point John suspected they'd both be on the verge of doing something drastic. Neither of them had any weapons, of course, but that had never stopped them from blowing things up. A few explosives would be about right for livening up the horribly boring reception he and Rodney were currently attending at some stupid fancy Washington hotel. If this had been a halfway decent alien reception, there would at least have been good booze to offset the boredom.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the media?" John asked Rodney as they passed by the depressingly alcohol-free punch bowl. Two more hours and they could escape. Two more hours. He could manage that. It certainly wasn't worse than, say, two hours in a grimy jail cell, or two hours hiding from Wraith in cave, or two hours under a collapsed building.

"You have," Rodney replied, "and I still say that hatred is stupid, given how every reporter on the planet seems to adore you."

"Being adored is dangerous, because they're paying attention to you. Right now I'm a dashing hero with a few small character flaws to make me interesting," John replied. "But believe me, if they found something big enough to make a real splash, they'd tear me apart like sharks scenting blood. One moment I'd be taking heroic risks to save live, the next I'd be a reckless fool. If they found out about you-know-what, who know what they'd do."

"Oh really?" Rodney smirked at him. "So you're worried about your amorous adventures getting us in trouble. How would that be new exactly?"

"Oh, shut up," John growled. He didn't have the sort of problem as often as Rodney liked to claim. Of course, as soon as he thought that, a female State Department official he'd been avoiding all night spotted him from across the room, reminding him that the universe had a perverse sense of humor. "I'm going to run outside for a breath of fresh air. Yell if you're getting kidnapped by the Amish or something."

"Right, whatever," Rodney replied. "Oh, hey, there's Schwartzburg. Time to crush his ego."

Rodney headed off into the crowd and John slipped out a side door, nodding to man in black standing guard there. Outside there was a patio and beyond that a garden area of some sorts. It was an okay enough place, John supposed, and having more greenery around than random potted plants was nice. He made his way down one of the paths leading out towards the street, where he could have a better view of the city. It wasn't a great view, of course, because outside of a few tourist spots Washington wasn't much of a city to look at. Maybe he was slightly biased, though.

He came around a tall shrub and nearly ran into a man standing there. It took John a minute to recognize him. "Evening, Doctor Jackson."

"Colonel Sheppard," Jackson replied. "Hiding?"

"Yep. You?"

"Pretty much. After a month of receptions, you start to get bored." Jackson shrugged. "There hasn't even been a fist fight at this one yet."

"Give Rodney time." John grinned while Jackson chuckled softly.

"I've got no one to blame but myself," he said in a wry tone. "I decided at day one I'd personally make sure we didn't screw up our own public first contact as badly as half the planets we've contacted."

John raised an eyebrow. "How are we doing so far?"

"Well. We haven't nuked each other, which is a good sign. No civil wars, either." Jackson sighed and shook his head. "On the other hand, world peace hasn't broken out, there's about sixteen thousand people dead from rioting, although no one seems to care because they're not from _important_," Jackson nearly spat the word, " countries, and the economy is either about to go into a major boom or completely self-destruct, depending on who you ask."

"Eh. It's probably better than it could have been. At least there aren't any major threats around right now. Goa'uld are mostly powerless, the Ori seem to be gone, and the Wraith are in another galaxy." That last was a sore point with John after the last few days, although he at least hadn't started yelling at senators, unlike some people he could name.

"An outside threat might have at least been unifying," Jackson pointed out. "As it is, we've got no one to aim guns at but each other." He looked around and then leaned in closer to John. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but the Pentagon's shitting bricks over a recent development in China. They just deployed what looks like a battery of modified Tollan ion cannons near Beijing."

"Tollan?"

Jackson waved a hand. "Before your time. The important part is that we don't have a clue how they got their hands on the design, let alone build them without us noticing. Needless to say, some people are a tad bit unhappy. They shouldn't be effective against Asgard shields, but who knows."

"Isn't that just wonderful." John shook his head. Better defenses for Earth should have been a good thing, but leave it to the politicians to find some way to make a mess of it. "Anyways, I've talked about this shit enough the last few days to last a lifetime. How's Sam doing? We're finally on the same planet again and I haven't seen her the whole time."

Jackson shrugged. "She's doing pretty well, I guess. I think she misses Atlantis, and you wouldn't believe how pissed she was at how the IOA yanked her home. I think Jack heard the yelling all the way in Washington. On the other hand, she was here for Cassie's graduation, which was nice. She wants to join an SG team sometime, you know."

John grinned. "Hey, if she's interested, we've got plenty of space."

"I'll pass that along," Jackson said with a nod. "How about you guys? Lorne doing okay?"

John's brow furrowed at the question. "What do you mean?"

"How's he doing?" Jackson asked again with a curious look. "You two are still, you know?"

"Oh, come on," John groaned. "Is this the worst-kept secret ever?"

"No, you hide it pretty well, but I've learned to notice that sort of thing after all these years." Jackson shrugged and after a moment added, "Also, you left him an apology note during that entire Replicator thing. It was a bit of a tell."

"Right, right." John had almost forgotten that after all the time since that night. Evan had been out with Jackson on some diplomatic mission involving giant lizards, and John had left a note in the archaeologist's office. He'd figured the man would pass it on, if certain rumors were true. "He's doing great. A lieutenant colonel now, in case you hadn't heard."

"I had. Pass on my congratulations."

John waited a few seconds, then decided that if he had a chance, he might as well ask a few questions of his own. "Say. If we're talking about secrets, would you mind telling me if it's true that General O'Neill and --"

John didn't get to finish his question. Two quick gunshots rang out from the direction of the road, and instinctively John shoved Jackson to the ground and spun around. Standing maybe a dozen feet away at the edge of the garden was a ratty-looking man with dirty clothes and a long, unkempt beard. He was waving what looked like a .38 and shouting about Satan and demons and other crap. John instinctively reached for his sidearm, but of course found nothing there and so instead he rushed towards the man. His eyes widened comically just before John's fist caught his chin, followed by a knee to the stomach. The gun fell from his hands and John kicked it into the underbrush, before sucker-punching the man again. He fell over and John gave him another swift kick for good measure.

"Can you believe this crap?" John called back to Jackson, wondering how the hell some kind of crazed maniac had gotten through the security cordon. There was no reply, and when John turned around he saw Jackson lying on the ground with two neat holes in his side.

"Oh fuck," John said, sprinting back and stripping off his uniform jacket.

"Fuck is right," Jackson groaned. "Jack is going to kill me."

"Kill you?" John asked, glad Jackson was coherent. He pressed his jacket to the wounds and winced in sympathy as Jackson hissed. "He's going to string me up with my own guts."

"Sheppard?!" John looked up to see Rodney running his away, along with a dozen or so security guards. John waved them over to where the fallen attacker was laying while Rodney knelt down next to him.

"Rodney, call the SGC emergency line, tell them we need an immediate beam-out. I'm not waiting for an ambulance."

"Right, right." Rodney fumbled out his cell and started punching in the number.

"No, he actually likes you," Jackson mumbled. "Quite a bit, really."

"He won't if I let his scientist bleed out." Some tiny part of John's mind was getting annoyed that his best class-A uniform was being ruined and wondering why he even bothered having the damn thing when he never wore it more than a couple times a year. The rest of him was thinking that Jackson was loosing a hell of a lot of blood. "Trust me; nothing annoys a guy more than that."

"He likes how you don't leave your men behind. Bit of a fetish with him." Jackson's eyes suddenly focused on his. "Have I ever mentioned that you seem strangely familiar?"

"You better not be saying I'm --" John was going to say, 'a clone', because really that would just suck, but the world dissolved into light and then they were on a cold metal deck. The world dissolved again, and the three of them were surrounded by the concrete walls of some nondescript arrival room in the SGC. Doctors and nurses swarmed around them and shoved John out of the way, and before he knew what was happening Jackson had been loaded up on gurney. He and Rodney tried to follow but a nurse blocked their way. John was left there holding his blood-soaked jacket while Rodney stared at him.

"Well, that was..." Rodney stopped and thought about what he had been going to say. "Okay, maybe it wasn't different. I think I'm getting way too used to people shooting at you, because I really should be freaking out more."

John tossed his jacket to the floor and started to pace around the room. "I'm an idiot. I assumed we'd be safe here, but obviously I'd forgotten just how fucked up this planet is. Stupid. We've got to call everyone who's here, make sure they're all right."

"You're bleeding," Rodney replied, eyes wide. John looked down at his hands, which admittedly were pretty bloody.

"No, none if it's mine, I'm -- huh." John realized that there was blood running down his left arm, and at about that moment it started to hurt like a bitch. "Okay, you may have a point."

Rodney stomped over to the door and grabbed a passing airman. "You! Go get whatever sorry excuses for doctors you have around here before this moron stoically bleeds to death."

The man took one look at John and took off down the corridor. A few minutes after that John was on a bed in the base infirmary with a doctor stitching up the wound on his arm. It was a long gash straight across his bicep, thankfully not too deep. He'd been hurt a lot worse than that countless times before, not that it stopped Rodney from ranting about his ability to attract bullets for a full fifteen minutes. John finally managed to distract him with calling every expedition member currently on-world. Despite how few of them were around, it took long enough that by the time he was done Rodney was tired enough that he nodded off on the next bed over. John would have liked to do the same, but even with the painkillers the doctor had given him he was still too hyped up with adrenaline to sleep.

An eternity later O'Neill showed up, dropping tiredly into a chair across from John. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and his uniform was rumpled. John started to get up, but O'Neill waved a hand at him. John sat there and waited for the general to say something.

"Daniel's in surgery," O'Neill said after a few minutes. "They should be finished in a few minutes. He'll be fine."

"Sir, I want to apologize for not --"

"Oh, shut up, Sheppard," O'Neill snapped. "You did exactly what you should have."

Rodney snuffled in his sleep and they both looked over at him. More quietly, John said, "I'm still sorry. That he's hurt and that you have to..." John waved vaguely toward the operating room and then Rodney, trying to convey that he knew what O'Neill was going through, "you know. Sit out here waiting."

"Thanks." O'Neill sighed and slouched into his chair. "We've been expecting this for a while, really. Half the nut jobs on the planet think he's the second coming, the other half think he's the antichrist. It's a mess."

"Your security sucks, too," John said without thinking. He winced as he realized what it must have sounded like, but rather than get angry O'Neill quietly laughed.

"That's what I keep telling him. It's hard to keep so many public events secure, but he insists on traveling all over the damned planet. I can't exactly say no, either, with him being the SGC's civilian face. People trust him more than the military; we need that now more than ever."

"I get that." John glanced over at Rodney again. "Sir, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but this has really put me off this entire PR tour thing. I was kinda hoping we'd get back to home sometime soon."

O'Neill grimaced but still nodded in acquiescence. "All right, no harm in moving up your departure a little. It'll have to wait until after the White House dinner tomorrow, though. There's going to be a lot of important people there, including most of the Stargate nations' leaders. I want you there putting that charm to good use. Besides, after today, I'll feel a lot better with McKay somewhere he can't yell at people."

"I'll do my best," John said with his most charming smile.

O'Neill snorted. "Maybe you can use your newest injury to get a little sympathy. You might need it some day."

John nodded. "Of course, sir. Thank you."

O'Neill studied him for a few minutes, then said, "Also, you meant that you were hoping to get back to Atlantis soon. Not home."

John froze. "Sir?"

"I've noticed you guys all have a tendency to refer to Atlantis as home," O'Neill said casually. Far too casually, John thought, because he knew that even O'Neill wasn't as laid back as he was trying to appear at the moment. John knew the trick well; he pulled it off himself all the time. "You need to stop it. Earth is your home, not Atlantis. At least not in public where the wrong sort of people might hear you."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," John said, "and I'll pass it along."

"See that you do. There's already people who question the utility of keeping more than a token force in the city, and that attitude is going to get worse before it gets better. You guys need to be above reproach. I know that you'd never do anything to hurt Earth, whatever your ultimate loyalties," John's mouth dropped open at that statement a million panicked denials wanting to spill out at once, "but not everyone will be that magnanimous."

John didn't know what to say, but he didn't get a chance to respond in any case. Doctor Lam appeared in the infirmary's door and called, "General, Doctor Jackson's awake and asking for you."

"I'll be there in a second." O'Neill got to his feet. "Just keep out of the way and let Woolsey and me handle the politics. All you need to worry about is doing your job." He walked to the door, but paused at the threshold to look back. "Oh, and for God's sake, make sure you and you-know-who are careful."

With that, he left John to sit there in thought.


	7. And Now for a Word

**\--- 7.1 ---**   
_(February 11 - 18, 2010)_

Daniel Jackson Shot! (New York Times)  
Man Held In Jackson Assassination Attempt (Washington Post)  
Jackson Resumes World Tour With London Visit - "Takes More Than That To Keep Me Down" (The Times)

Wormholes, Starships, and Space Vampires - Canadian Super-genius Dr. Rodney McKay (Wired)  
Flying, Ferris Wheels, and Anything Faster than 200 MPH - Life on Atlantis with Colonel John Sheppard (Wired)  
'Indeed' - An interview with Teal'c of the Free Jaffa (Time Magazine)

File sharing Rampant on Atlantis - Can RIAA Lawsuits Be Far Behind? (BoingBoing)  
Old Man's War 'great book' according to Shep (Whatever)  
Well, well, well - where is your Xenu now, Scientology? (Anonymous)

Torren Emmagan, the Blue Boy Of Atlantis - Hermiod's Love Child? (National Enquirer)  
Aliens Made Them Do It!! - Gate Tech Tells All! (The Sun)

**\--- 7.2 ---**

**_The Advocate_, February 15, 2010 Edition**

The debate over the U.S. military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," policy has raged for years, especially after the start of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars. There was no sign that it would be repealed anytime soon, despite the undeniable skill and bravery of many gay service members and many studies showing increased acceptance among the troops for gays in the ranks. That view was turned on its head when it was revealed that for over a year, there has been an official exception to the rules applied to the Atlantis Expedition. Moreover, that exception simply formalized an unofficial policy in place since the expedition first departed. Many senior officers and right-wing politicians and commentators have decried this action and demanded the rules be enforced for everyone. Far more people point at Atlantis and to a lesser extent Stargate Command, as living proof the policy is outdated. Last month, we had the pleasure of getting a change to meet former Army lieutenant Dave Webster-Marquez, who has the dubious distinction of being the only Atlantean discharged under DADT. He graciously agreed to give us an interview and tell us what life is like on Altantis for its LGBT inhabitants.

A: Thanks for speaking with us, Dave. I hope it's not too much trouble.

"Oh, no, not at all. I was on Earth visiting family anyways. This is actually pretty exciting for me.

A: Why don't you start by telling us a little about yourself?

"I'm twenty-five years old and from Des Moines. I went to Iowa State University and joined ROTC there. There's not a lot to say about that, I was a pretty boring guy during my college years. I got lucky because I graduated the first year they started screening all the incoming officers for the ATA gene as part of our physicals. My test scores were high enough that the SGC pulled me in, although that was pretty much a given unless I was completely incompetent. Everyone with the gene gets selected these days, and anyone without dependents has to do a trial rotation on Atlantis. Although trial's a bit of a misnomer, because pretty much everyone stays long-term."

A: Want to tell us what it's like there?

"I could try, but there isn't any way I could do it justice. All I can really say is that it's absolutely stunning in every way possible. It's incredibly beautiful, especially at sunrise and sunset, and just walking around with all that technology surrounding you and knowing that that city's been there longer than our entire species has exist is just amazing. Let's see, what else. There's ocean all around it, of course, and believe me that took a lot of getting used to for someone who'd never even seen one. The planet has four moons. The day's twenty-seven hours long and the year's a lot shorter, too, and that definitely took some getting used to. The doctors actually monitor your sleep cycle the first few weeks to make sure you're not going to turn into a sleep-deprived zombie. Really, I could go on for hours. There's too much to say. It's an alien city on an alien planet in an alien galaxy, and it's just wonderful."

A: How about the people?

"You couldn't ask for a better group. It's really like a big extended family in a way. Everyone's always watching out for each other. There's a lot to do off-duty, and people make a real effort to help the new guys fit in. Now, don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people who don't get along with each other. The thing is, I can guarantee that even someone who'd spit in your coffee would still walk into a burning building for you. And it's always a personal dislike because of clashing personalities or professional disagreement, too. It's not because you're gay, or black, or French, or civilian or military. Things like that just don't matter to anyone. Pretty much everyone found out I was gay pretty quick - it's like a small town, gossip travels fast. There was some good-natured ribbing, but nothing they weren't saying about straight guys too. Honestly, even with the danger I felt a lot more comfortable in Atlantis than I ever had in my life. I wouldn't have given it up for anything."

A: If no one cared, how did you end up getting kicked out?

"Really, it's my own fault a bit. See, everyone told me that when a ship was in port I needed to be more careful, but during one stopover by the Apollo it slipped my mind. Colonel Ellis walked in on me and Enrique with our pants down in a supply closet and the next thing I knew he was filing a complaint. Colonel Sheppard tried to fight it, but once it was officially being put through there wasn't much he could do to stop it. Still, that didn't stop him, and he got Doctor McKay to hire me." *laughs* "Believe me, that was way more frightening than the discharge was."

A: Basically, he found a loophole to keep you on the staff?

"Pretty much. I have the gene -- and it's natural, that's a pretty big deal because there are only about two dozen of us in Atlantis and just a few more on Earth -- which was the big thing, but I also have a useful degree and security clearance. Add in that no one who actually mattered wanted me gone, and I was set. The only thing that changed was my job and who I reported to. I even get to go off world from time to time, although mostly I work with Doctor Z doing routine maintenance so he has more time for critical work. I've also been helping out with recruitment lately. I have to say, it was actually pretty funny to see Ellis' face the next time he was in port and he saw I was still there."

A: So are they many LGBT people in Atlantis?

"There are quite a few of us, and everyone's pretty open about it. I'd actually guess there's a disproportionate percentage, although I couldn't guess as to why that's the case. There's never been any real trouble over it. Oh, we get the occasional bad apple, but the command staff and officers have always come down hard on them and shipped them back to Earth."

A: You're basically saying that everyone's out there?

"More or less, yeah. I mean, it takes some people a while just to get used to the idea, but I know a lot of people find it really liberating. The American military was the exception, of course. The Russians and Chinese technically have it worse, but they don't have any of their own command structure above them."

A: In terms of the military, has anyone problems working along with gays and lesbians?

"Not in the least. There's so much more to worry about, why would anyone care? I do have the point out that we're pretty well screened, but honestly I don't think that it makes a huge difference. People adjust really fast once they get to actually know you. The only real point of friction was that the Canadians, the British, all the ones without discriminatory policies could actually list their partners as next of kin and that sort of thing. That only really applied to benefits and such back here on Earth, of course. At home we have special arrangements for that sort of thing, since you might need an immediate decision made."

A: So essentially the trouble was the policy, not the people?

"Pretty much. Actually, now that I think about it, there was one other thing that cropped up - marriage. There have been a few, although obviously mostly straight couples. The frat regs only apply to the military, and even then it's just within your immediate unit. It's caused a bit of annoyance that some people can get officially married and others can't, especially when the ones wanting to get hitched are from different countries. Like me and Enrique. He's from Spain, I'm from America, we're living in another galaxy - it's a big legal mess."

A: Since we're on the topic, how did you and Enrique meet?

"We were off world together. He's an electrical engineer, and we were working on repairing a native power grid in exchange for... hmm. Some kind of medicinal plant, I think. Anyways, it was the middle of winter, and this big blizzard comes roaring down on the town. We ended up snowbound in the local inn for a few days and got to talking. We found we had a lot in common, and things went from there. He proposed about a year later, right before the discharge became final, so when we went back to Earth we got married and had our honeymoon. McKay only gave us six weeks off for it, discounting travel time, but we took eight. He yelled surprising little, really."

A: Well, congratulations. So are there a lot of long-term couples or people wanting to get married? It seems like a pretty turbulent environment for those kinds of relationships.

"Well, you're right and wrong about that. There are a lot of people who are just looking for open relationships or just a little fun. Still, there's a lot of comfort in having someone you can lean on, and you have to remember that we're talking about a pretty small community. You figure out what you want and who you fit with pretty fast. As for couples, yeah, there's quite a few, gay and straight, and a few trios, too. Some of them have been together since the beginning. I think there's six or seven married couples. Rumor has it Chuck's about to propose for Dave Parrish, ordered a ring and everything - there's another international couple, by the way. Parrish is American, Chuck's a Canadian. Mountie, if you can believe it."

A: What? A Mountie?

"You know. Red uniform, maintains the right, all that stuff. He runs the control room and handles a lot of the administrative tasks that are needed for keeping the city running."

A: Yeah, but what's a Mountie doing in another galaxy?

"It's a long story involving an evil moose and an insane marine. It's really not worth going into right now."

A: I see. Well, getting back on topic, we've heard many stories over the years about how radically different officers can be in handling gay service members in their units. As a gay soldier, what did you think about Colonel John Sheppard?

"As a gay soldier? Well, from that perspective, Colonel Sheppard is the best CO you could ever wish for. Some COs I've heard about, they might ignore you as long as you're not too blatant, but he's at an entirely different level. He was completely supportive our relationship and did his best to fight for me when Ellis started causing trouble. But here's the thing - really, that's nothing he doesn't do every single day. He'd fight the same way for any other member of the expedition. Gay, straight, bi, even trans I bet - we're all the same to him. It could be any other problem you might have, and he'd be there for you. The same goes for Lorne, the other officers, even the civilians. It all goes back to one ideal in the end -- we don't leave our people behind. In fact, if I had to choose one phrase to sum up the expedition mindset that would be it."

A: We've learned that shortly after your discharge, President Hayes issued an executive order preventing the enforcement of DADT in Atlantis. How do you feel about that?

"It actually makes me pretty happy, and a lot of guys have thanked me even though I wasn't the one who convinced them to make the change, just a catalyst of sorts. Sure, the timing sucked for me, but that's not Sheppard or Carter's fault. I'm just glad no other Lanteans - sorry, no other expedition members are going to have to deal with this. With any luck, our success out there will help people back here on Earth."

A: On the subject of Colonel Sheppard, there's quite a bit of talk about him. His mother was a longtime advocate of repealing DADT, and even here on Earth we've heard some pretty interesting stories. Any comment?

"Oh, the rumors about him and McKay? Or do you mean Ronon, Lorne, or Mitchell? It can get confusing, trying to keep track of who he's supposed to be sleeping with this week. All I'll tell you is that he seems pretty happy, and more than that isn't any of my business."

A: One last question before you go. What are your plans for the future?

"I hate to disappoint you, but the answer's pretty boring. I've got pretty much the same plans as any other young professional would - go to work, have some fun, maybe start a family some day. I suppose I could add in 'defeat the Wraith', but honestly that's what Sheppard and McKay are there for. I just make sure their showers keep running and the mess kitchen keeps working."

A: Thanks for speaking with us.

"Thanks for having me."

**\--- 7.3 ---**   
_(March 1, 2010)_

And we're live on the air with...

_Jim from Denver:_ "I don't care what they're all doing down in that mountain, as long as I don't have to see weird space bugs like I did a couple years ago again."

_Rebbecca from Berkeley:_ "I can't imagine why we let the military of all things take charge of exploring the stargate. I know the Goa'uld were nasty people, but still, I bet if things had been handled by professionals there wouldn't have been nearly so much trouble. I'm just glad the IOA is in charge of things now, I'm sure they'll do a much better job."

_Kurt from Cleveland:_ "It's bad enough there are body-snatching and people-eating space aliens, but we've still got all these damned Arabs who still want to kill us all. How about we finally put an end to all this crap with the Middle East with those new space guns, so we can deal with more important things."

_Debbie from Des Moines:_ "I don't know about the rest of you, but I've seen too many people waste away from cancer, and if those nice men out in Atlantis have found a way to stop that from happening to more people then I don't care how many space vampires we have to deal with, it's worth it. Besides, that nice Sheppard boy seems like he's got a handle on things. Reminds me of my Patrick. He wasn't too bright, no, but he fought the Nazis, he did."

_Tim from New York:_ "The space thing's cool and all, but I'd feel a lot better if I didn't have to worry about my boss replacing me with a robot."

_Jane from St. Louis:_ People should shut up and stop complaining. Yes, mistakes were made, but the planet's still here, which it wouldn't be if it weren't for SG-1 and the Air Force."

_Phil from Colorado Springs:_ I just can't wait until they start letting civilians go through who aren't part of government missions. It still boggles me that they won't let our boys spread the good word to other planets, but if they can't do it we're ready to step in at the first chance. The army has knocked down all the false gods, now it's our turn to do our duty and show people the true path to God's grace."

_Sarah from Miami:_ Who cares about all this politics stuff? I just wanted to say that I wish John Sheppard was my commanding officer, if you know what I mean.

**\--- 7.4 ---**   
_(March 12, 2010)_

"We're here with retired General Jacob Rutledge, formerly of the United States Air Force, to talk about what's currently going on with the Stargate program and some of the implications for America. General, it's good to have you with us today."

"Glad to be here, Jane."

"So let's start out with the basics. What are some of your views on what's been coming out over the last few months?"

"Well, let me start by saying that this entire planet owes the men and women of Stargate Command a debt of gratitude. Whatever else has happened, they're the only reason we're still alive and free. With or without the program, someone out there -- or here on Earth, as we saw with Hathor and Osiris -- would have noticed us, and without the preparations they made possible we'd have been sitting ducks."

"I certainly can't deny that. Some of the revelations about the Goa'uld and Ori have been terrifying."

"Of course, they're all gone now, so let's see what else the SGC has brought us. Probably the most obvious are our warships, the BC-304 cruisers and CV-305 carriers, which finally put us on somewhat equal terms with the rest of the galaxy. There's also the Asgard data core, even if it will take us centuries to truly utilize its potential. But beyond that, there are a thousand facets of life right here at home that are being changed as we speak. The SGC has been slowly leaking electronics upgrades for a decade now, revolutionizing computing. You may not realize it, but your laptop probably has some kind of alien-derived hardware. Medicine's another big one -- Tretonin-C will radically change the treatment of disease once it's through clinical trials, as will medical nanotechnology."

"Despite all that, General, you've been a critic of the speed of disclosure. Is there some downsides you see to all these innovations?"

"Yes, and there are some pretty big ones. I'm not talking just the price in money and lives. Any one of these technologies could revolutionize our society, but we're being hit with all of them at once. No one really knows what the strategic situation is anymore. The new medical technologies will save millions of lives and make those lives healthier than ever, but what will that mean for retirees and our social programs? For that matter, what do some of the rumored manufacturing systems mean for the workforce? It's all a mess, and meanwhile large segments of Homeworld Security seem to want to act like it's business as usual, which will only lead to even more disruptive events occurring."

"So what you're saying is that continuing on our present path could lead to even more trouble than we already have?"

"Exactly, Jane. We need to stop and take a few deep breaths while we think about what we want to do next."

"So what would you do in their place?"

"Well, Jane, if I were running things, I'd put a damper this constant adventurism that has characterized the Stargate program since its inception. We need to concentrate on building up our forces and getting things under control here at home. Certainly there are good reasons to continue exploring, and I definitely agree that expansion of our existing off-world bases is essential, but there is a limit. We need to stop playing galactic policeman and rescue service, particularly in Pegasus, and focus on practical considerations like warship construction. I'd love to see us help more people, but we need to be capable of doing so first. Luckily, much of Congress seems to be of that opinion."

"But do you really think that Hayes will cooperate? He seems pretty dedicated to continuing exploration."

"Well, if there is one thing you can say about President Hayes, it's that he is willing to compromise and will listen to reason. He'll certainly want to keep some level of activity in the exploration program, but he's also a pragmatic man who will recognize that there are limits to what we can do at this point. Unlike the previous administration, 'stay the course' isn't an end in itself."

"Interesting. What about our current treaty obligations, then? Should those be scaled back as well?"

"Well, if there's room to do so, sure. I don't think we should abandon our friends, of course, which is one reason why we need to stop running around trying to find more people that we'd have to look after...."


	9. Troubled Waters

**\--- 8.1 ---**   
_(April 7, 2010)_

Sam was on another planet.

Sam was on another planet, and in an _alien city_. It was by far the coolest thing he'd experienced, closely followed the trip aboard a spaceship he'd made to get there. The facts that it had taken three weeks, the bunk had been too small, and the food hadn't been too good were all completely irrelevant to the flight's sheer awesomeness. Besides, there had been a number of interesting lectures to take up all the free time, although neither Sam nor any of the other new people aboard had been able to tell for sure when the handful of veterans aboard were telling the truth and when they were pulling people's legs. He was fairly certain that there wasn't any such thing as man-eating pine trees, for example.

In any case, they'd finally arrived. Unfortunately _Daedalus_ hadn't landed so they hadn't been able to see the city from the air, but with any luck he'd be able to get up in one of the 'puddle jumpers' soon and take a look. Instead Sam and the other hundred-some passengers had been beamed directly down into a large, empty hall somewhere in the city. Sam couldn't help but stare at his surroundings in awe. Everything seemed to be made out of some sort of metallic material that he didn't recognize, colored with a subtle fractal-like pattern made of dozens different shades of red, tan, and bronze with a bit of green thrown in here and there. Most stunning of all was a floor to ceiling stained glass window through which he could see choppy waves. The entire hall had a strange alien feel to it, and it took Sam a minute to realize it wasn't just his mind playing games with him but rather that there wasn't a single right angle to be seen in the room, nor any symmetry.

"Hey, new guys, over this way," someone called, jerking him back to reality. Sam turned to see a sandy-haired man with a green-paneled jacket waving off to end of the room. "Civilians to my left, military to my right. No, my other right. David! Dr. Brown needs to talk to you about the aquatic garden on the northwest pier immediately; there's been another amorous fire-squid incident."

One of the veterans who had been on the _Daedalus_, a botanist if Sam remember correctly, shook his head and sighed. "Love you too, Chuck."

Sam started to head over to the Canadian when he was nearly bowled over by something not unlike a short bear. It took him a moment to realize it wasn't trying to eat him, but rather hug him, and that it wasn't an alien bear, but his older brother Dean. It certainly an improvement, because it would have really sucked to be attacked by wildlife within minutes of arriving. Not that he'd admit it, of course.

"Sam! It's about time got here," Dean was saying while doing his best to squeeze the life from Sam. He half-heartedly tried to hug Dean back, which proved difficult as his arms were effectively pinned to his sides.

"Hey," he managed to gasp out. "Can't breathe."

"Pansy," Dean said with a gruff, affectionate tone as he took a step back. "How have you been?"

"Good." Sam tipped his head to the side slightly, because he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing. "You're... cheery. You're never cheery. What are you up to?"

"Can't I just be glad to see my little brother?"

"Younger," Sam corrected, "And no." The answer wasn't exactly true, of course, because Dean was always happy to see him, just like Sam was always happy to see him in one piece. He knew Dean adored him - he had joined the Corps specifically to put both of them through college, after all - but smiling like a maniac just wasn't something the guy did even when he came home on leave. Sure, he grinned and laughed when having fun, smirked triumphantly, maybe even smiled softly when he thought no one was looking �" but cheer? That didn't show up unless he was hammered or thought it would get him into someone's pants.

"You're just being stubborn now." Dean turned and raised his voice. "Chuck! It all right if I take him? I promise he'll be back in time for the welcome dinner."

"Just make sure he doesn't touch anything, sir," Chuck replied. "He's in C-92-113, down the hall from you like you asked."

"Thanks!" Dean started to drag Sam out of the jumper bay and into a hallway. "Come on, you'll love this. If we drop your bag off quick, we can make it out to the east pier in time."

"Time for what?" Sam said, stumbling along. "And how's pulling me into a closet going to help?"

"Watch." Dean tapped a little map at the back wall, once on a spot near the center and then on two numbers at the side, and the doors slid shut. When they opened again, they weren't where they had been. Dean gave him a little shove and Sam found himself face to face with another ceiling-to-floor window, this one clear and looking out over spires of glass and metal and an endless ocean beyond. He had a sudden moment of vertigo as he realized he was about a hundred stories up and there was nothing between him and a very, very long drop to the hard deck below but a thin pane of glass, but that feeling quickly passed and was replaced once more by the word _awesome_.

"Oh, wow," Sam said, looking down. The late afternoon sun seemed to turn the entire city into a giant jewel made of ruby and amber as light reflected off countless windows. "Nice view."

"Yeah, yeah. Enough gawking, we're on a schedule." Dean walked off and Sam reluctantly followed him. Maybe half a minute later they stopped in front of a door and Dean waved his hand of a trio of glowing rectangles to the side, causing it to slide open. Sam stepped inside and looked around. Much like the arrival hall, this room was an oddly-shaped polyhedron. There were windows along one wall, a door leading into what Sam assumed was the bathroom, and over in one corner was a decently large bed. There were also a few chairs and other furniture haphazardly strewn about the room. In all, it was probably a little bigger than the studio apartment he'd been living in back on Earth.

"This the best you got?" Sam asked as he finished looking around.

"Quit your bitching," Dean replied. "Everyone's got something like this, even the command staff. I'm just down the hall myself."

"What, you're not off with all the other marines?"

"Everyone's mixed together. It's safer that way, no single target to hit and wipe out the command structure. That's the only reason the living quarters aren't all in one building, for that matter."

"Right..." Sam replied after a second, frowning at the reply. The fact that his brother had delivered it so matter-of-factly, as if it was normal to think in terms of targets when talking about living arrangements, was a bit disturbing. It also brought up another question. "So, uh. I thought you were planning on getting out of the service in a few months."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was, but then they assigned me here for a trial tour because of the gene, and that was that. I mean, this place is great, really just... great. Fantastic, even...." Dean drifted off for a moment, then he shook his head and continued. "Once I knew for sure you were coming, I figured there wasn't anything left back on Earth anyways so why not save the hassle and re-up?" Dean's broad grin suddenly was replaced by a frown. "There isn't anything on Earth, is there? Tell me there isn't a girl or something."

"No, no. Well. Not anymore." The less said about Sam's love life as of late, the better.

The grin came back instantly. "Good. Actually, there's actually this chick in biochemistry I think you'd like."

Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Don't even start this again."

"Okay, if not biochem girl, I bet we could get a double date with the Sanchez twins."

"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own dates, Dean."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

Sam was saved from further torment when a woman's voice came out of nowhere. _"Dean? You asked me to remind you of the test flight. They're starting preflight now, you should get moving if you want to get there in time."_

"Oh, thanks, Mike. Come on, you dork, you don't want to miss this."

Dean lead the way back out the hall and back to the closet-transporter-thing, and once they were inside he once again tapped a place on what had to be a map of the city out near the eastern edge. There was a momentary flash and they emerged from the building out onto a wide open field nearly at ocean level. A glance to one direction revealed a disorganized mess of towers that grew taller and taller and drew his eyes the central spire reaching up into the wispy clouds. In the other direction was a low building of some kind with a wide-open door, maybe a hangar. There was a crowd around them and after a moment a lanky, wild-haired man emerged and came their way. He had a pistol strapped to his thigh -- and suddenly Sam realized that so did Dean, and so did well over half the people around them -- and even stranger a red sling over his chest that held a tiny form.

"Afternoon, Captain Winchester," the man said, and Dean's spine was suddenly ramrod-straight.

"Sir, I'd like to introduce my brother Sam," he said. "Sam, this is Colonel Sheppard, my CO."

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Sheppard said. He offered Sam his hand and he took it after a moment's shock. "I've heard good things about you."

"Ah, it's an honor, sir," Sam stuttered, barely able to get the words out because he had just come face to face with someone who was literally world-famous and fought space vampires for a living. It was at that moment that it clicked that it meant Dean fought space vampires for a living, too. Wasn't that just typical.

"Your brother's a good man, I'm glad we've got him here." Sam wondered if he had fallen into a Twilight Zone episode. He was in an alien city, he had just met John Fucking Sheppard, and his brother was grinning like a loon. It just wasn't natural. Dean hadn't really, truly smiled much even before he'd become a Big Tough Marine, and now he was acting like a puppy getting his tummy rubbed.

Sheppard chuckled and turned away to point at the hangar. "They should be coming out any minute now. Hey, you're a space guy, right?"

Sam swallowed. "Yes, sir." It was an understatement, because up until he'd suddenly gotten a letter from his brother and another from Dr. Radek Zelenka, he had been working for Scaled Composites. It would have been the job of a lifetime, adapting newly declassified technology to one of the few existing purely civilian spacecraft, except then he was being asked to leave for another galaxy. It hadn't been a hard choice. Sam wasn't about to say any of that to John Sheppard, though, because... he was _John Sheppard_. John Sheppard, who knew what Sam did for a living.

Sheppard listened to something on his radio and grinned. "You'll like this."

The air filled with a low humming noise, then a metal brick started to slowly float out of the hangar door. It wasn't huge, maybe as large as an old 727 but certainly not close to an A-380, but the fact that it was in the air at all was remarkable. It looked more like a brick with a pair of stubby engine nacelles slapped on than a spacecraft, with no thought given to aerodynamics beyond slanted nose. At several points around the hull there were large gaps in the hull, inside which cables and other equipment that Sam couldn't recognize were visible. The ship certainly didn't have any of the grace curves of one of the Spaceships or White Knights, nor was it anywhere near the size of a battle cruiser, but it still had a certain practical elegance to that nearly made his head freeze up as he watched it putter around.

The ship slowly did a pass by the cheering crowd and reached the edge of the pier, where it turned in a jerky, uneven circle to head back the way it had come. It was barely floating a few dozen feet above the field, but height didn't really matter because if you could resist gravity at twenty feet you could resist it more easily at twenty thousand. Given that the thing had to weigh around five, maybe even ten thousand tons, it was pretty damned impressive.

Right around the time he thought that, the hum turned into more of a warble and the ship started to sink, bobbed up a few feet before heading downward once more, before finally plummeting like a brick the last few to land with a loud clang. The cheering stopped and everyone looked around at each other, until at some radio signal Sam couldn't hear they all started to laugh.

"_Asimov_'s still got a few kinks that need fixed," Sheppard said, shaking his head and chuckling. "I bet Rodney will have you working on it pretty soon, or maybe on the cruiser design."

Sam nearly fell over when he realized that he'd be working with _Rodney McKay_. He didn't know whether to be thrilled or frightened.

The rest of the night after that was something of a blur. Dean dragged Sam around the city on a grand tour, taking them up and down so many stairs that by the end it felt like his legs were going to drop off. Along the way he pointed out various features ranging from the mundane ("toilet paper dispenser -- makes it right there, weird, huh?") to vitally important ("Closet like this in every occupied area, with gas masks and first aid kits.") to the just plain weird ("It's either abstract art or a three-d representation of a five-d object, but either way it's ugly as fuck."). Eventually they ended up at a welcoming party out on the west pier, where they ate, drank, and danced until the early hours of the morning, with Sam being forced to admit that Dean might be on to something regarding the Sanchez twins.

Finally, at around two in the morning, they finally got back to Sam's quarters, with Dean stumbling off after a final promise and/or threat to get Sam up early so they could get down to the range for weapons qualifications. Sam made use of the Ancient restroom, which wasn't much different from a normal one except he could control it with his brain, and then stripped down to this boxers and fell into bed. He wasn't expecting to get much sleep that night, because he hated sleeping in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. With any luck he'd adjust quickly, but he knew he was probably in for a few restless nights first.

Sure enough, he ended up tossing and turning constantly, unable to find a comfortable position, and every time it seemed like he was finally starting to fall asleep he'd be jolted awake by a strange noise. Things continued that way for at least an hour, until something changed without warning. It was like someone had flipped a switch to let all the tension out of his body, and as he finally began to slip away he could hear someone singing a lullaby. The soft and soothing voice was dimly familiar, like he could almost connect it with some nearly-forgotten memory.

"Mom?" he mumbled, half-asleep and confused.

"Hush, love," the voice said. "You need to get some rest. You're not going to get a lot of chances for a while, not around here."

"'Kay," he said, and he drifted off.

**\--- 8.2 ---**   
_(April 8, 2010)_

The morning after the _Daedalus_ arrived, Diane Pierson walked through the steel and glass corridors of Atlantis on her way to her first appointment of the day. After three weeks stuck aboard the starship, it was good to walk freely around and have something to look at other than drab grey walls. She was still inside, true enough, but these metal halls were far easier on the eye, and the knowledge that just outside was a warm breeze and a sunny sky made them a thousand times less oppressive. Having someone new to talk to was also a thrill, as she'd run through almost everyone on the ship barely halfway through the voyage even though she'd done her best to pace herself. Still, she would have been willing to spend three _months_ aboard the ship for an opportunity like this.

Diane came to what she hoped was the correct room and pressed the glowing crystal she'd been told was the door bell. A minute later, the door slid open and revealed a tall, dark-skinned woman with long hair who was wearing a sleeveless shirt. She held herself with a light, graceful poise that reminded Diane of a professional dancer.

"Ms. Emmagen?" Diane said. "I'm Diane Pierson, I have an appointment to speak with you, I believe."

"Ah, yes, the 'in-bed' reporter. Mr. Woolsey told me you would be here this morning. Come in and make yourself comfortable, and please, call me Teyla." Teyla stepped back and waved her in toward a pair of low chairs. Nearby was a crib, made of wood and obviously hand-crafted, in which a young toddler was soundly asleep. The room was decorated with a number of candles and fine drapes, and on the wall hung several paintings, including what had to be a portrait of Teyla's team.

"Thank you, Teyla, and by all means call me Diane."

"I hope you had a pleasant journey," Teyla said as they settled into the chairs.

"It was dull, but that hardly matters now that I'm here. It's a real privileged to be here, and I want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me."

"It is no trouble at all."

Diane powered up the tablet she'd been issued and opened up the note taking program, then pulled out a microphone and plugged it in. "I hope you don't mind if I record this."

"Not at all."

"Thank you." Diane started up the recording and began the interview with a few simple warm-up questions, such as how she had come to join the expedition and what her position currently was. Diane knew all that, of course, but she felt that with an interview like this it was important to lay the groundwork first. Then she moved on to the first item on her agenda.

"Now, as I understand, you've currently got the distinction of the being the only mother living in Atlantis, or at least the only one who's raising a child here at the moment."

Teyla looked over at her son with the heartfelt smile of a mother. "Yes, that is correct. His name is Torren John, after my father and Colonel Sheppard."

"It must be difficult to raise a child by yourself, especially when you're still taking such an active role in the city's operations and going off-world."

Teyla laughed softly and shook her head. "No, not at all. I am hardly alone, either. His father is away at the moment, true, but his uncles -- that is, my team mates -- are all here for us, and everyone in the city from Mr. Woolsey down have been most supportive. There have been a few sleepless nights, true, but they have been worth it."

"Still, don't you worry about the fact that he's living in a place like this?"

Teyla looked puzzled and shook her head. "He will grow up in the city of the Ancestors and surrounded by family. How could I not be happy about that?"

"Surely you must be concerned about the danger to him?"

"Diane, he is in far less danger here than elsewhere. Atlantis may be more of a target that most worlds, yes, but here there are shields to keep out attackers. There may be dangerous technology, but it is certainly no more dangerous than a camp or village. The fact that he has even made it to his present age is a testament to the gifts your people have given mine."

"How so?"

"Medicine, among other things. Since your doctors began caring for us, only two children have died of disease. Many others, both young and old, have survived wounds and illnesses they would not have otherwise. Sometimes I think many from your developed nations forget what great a blessing your doctors are."

Diane nodded "That's certainly true, but I have to wonder if medical treatment and the other 'gifts' we've given you haven't left you with a slightly biased view."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm just saying that you may not realize it, but the nations of Earth probably aren't quite as nice as you've been lead to believe."

"Ms. Pierson, do you take me for an idiot?"

"Excuse me?" The words were so at odds with the calm tone they were spoken with that it left Diane at a loss for a moment. "I, well, of course not."

"Then why do you assume I know nothing of your world? I can read your language, and even if I could not I am surrounded by friends. Only a fool would be in my position and not learn as much as they could of their new allies, especially about how they treat others less advanced then they."

"I suppose that makes sense."

"Elizabeth was always happy to provide historical information to read, as were the sociologists, and while it is remotely possible that they could have forged it all I can see no reason why they would have put so much effort into doing so. The same is even truer for more recent events, such as your country's war in Afghanistan. So many here have spoken of it at some time that I would have to be deaf not to hear, and by no means has it all been good." Teyla spread her hands and smiled. "Besides, I trust those here around me. I know they are not trying to deceive me."

"Well, when you put way, it sounds so obvious. My apologies if I insulted you, Teyla."

"No offense was taken, Diane. To return to your point, I am well aware that your people and I mean all the peoples of Earth, have not always been as kind as those here and that there are some truly. I know of colonialism, of slavery, of genocide. I know that the less powerful are still exploited to this day. Despite all that, I feel confident in placing my trust in those in charge of Atlantis and Stargate Command, if not necessarily your entire planet."

"It's nice to hear that you're so optimistic. Many at home would probably say you're being too generous, though."

Teyla sighed and sat back. "Perhaps. I do worry at times that your governments will try to cut their losses and leave. That would be a disaster for this galaxy, as we would once more be left to face the Wraith alone."

"You only have to face the Wraith at all because we woke them up," Diane pointed out.

Teyla looked at her through narrowed eyes, becoming visibly annoyed for the first time. "I place no blame upon you for doing so. If John Sheppard had not woken them, they would have done so eventually, and even when the hives slept cullings occurred from time to time. Such is life in this galaxy. The difference is that thanks to him, and to Rodney and Elizabeth and all the others here, is that now we have a fighting chance."

"Still, the Wraith woke a century or more early, to devastating effect, and then there are the replicators to consider. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions are dead who wouldn't be if we hadn't meddled. Is 'a fighting chance' worth it?"

"If the Wraith can be defeated, then anything would be worth the cost. The alternative is another ten thousand years as herd animals." Teyla's expression smoothed out and she smiled once more. "Perhaps we can speak of other things now."

Diane knew when the quit, especially since the last thing she needed to do was start angering people this early in the game, and so she steered the conversation back into safer territory. For a while they talked about what it was like living in Atlantis and what it was like to travel through the galaxy, but eventually Teyla's son began to stir and Diane excused herself so that they could both get on with their days. Diane could have stayed there for hours, but there were other people in Atlantis who she was supposed to meet with before the dial-out at the end of the week. Besides, she had several months in Atlantis at the very least, and there would be plenty of time for more in-depth exploration of issues later on.

It took a lot more effort to track down her next interview, but eventually she found Ronon Dex in one of the gyms. By all appearances, he was leisurely smacking around another man, whom she recognized as Doctor McKay, with long, thick wood stick. McKay, for his part, was doing his best to avoid being smacked either by ducking away or flailing about with his own stick. Neither man noticed her as she walked in.

"Hi there. Specialist Dex?" she said, trying to get his attention with a wave of her hand. "I'm Diane Pierson. We have an interview scheduled."

"Oh, thank god," McKay. He straightened out of the hunched-over position he'd been in and glanced her way. "Please, take him and _crap!_"

Ronon had chosen that moment to lunge forward and strike out with his stick and McKay jumped back, swinging his own weapon and just barely blocking the attack.

"Damn it!" McKay shouted, then jumped back again as Ronon feinted toward him. "Did you or did you not hear her?"

"Don't reason we can't talk here," Ronon said, his voice a deep rumble.

"Well... okay." Diane said after a second. She'd heard enough stories about Ronon to know that she should probably take any offer to talk at all, and while the setting was a bit unusual it wasn't quite the weirdest place she'd ever done an interview at. "So, is this what you do for fun around here?"

"Yep," Ronon grunted, and for a moment the air filled with the clattering of wood-on-wood, followed by a yelp.

"Only because he's insane," McKay groused, rubbing his arm gingerly. "You could do other things, you know."

"I do."

"Oh, like what?"

"Run. Throw Sheppard around. Beat up marines."

"Figures. Hah, you missed!"

Diane frowned slightly, then tried again. "So, I understand you've been here almost four years now." She waited a few seconds, then said, "And before that you were a runner, correct?" She waited again, but Ronon didn't so much as nod. "And on Sateda you were a soldier?"

"Yep."

Diane stifled a sigh. "So, was that going to be your career, or were you drafted, or did everyone have to spend time in the army?"

"Everyone did at least two years," Ronon said in the middle of yet another swing at McKay, who was just a little too slow and took a glancing hit to his shoulder.

"Okay. Sounds like a few places back on Earth," Diane said with a nod. "Were you going to do something else?"

"I was going to school. Did a couple years, too."

"Oh? For what?"

"Theatre major. It's why I'm a specialist."

"Wait, what?" McKay said, starting to drop his guard but catching himself. "You can't be serious."

Ronon grinned. "Nope."

"So did you really start school, or was that another joke?" Diane asked.

"You're the reporter, you tell me," Ronon said, before swiping at McKay with his foot. He caught the scientist's ankle and moments later McKay hit the ground with a loud thump.

Diane winced in sympathy. "You know, I'll just try and catch you later."

Ronon just grunted and nodded, and as Diane left to find something to do before her next appointment she heard McKay plaintively say, "I'm okay, not that anyone cares."

**\--- 8.3 ---**   
_(May 20, 2010)_

One would think that getting a shipload of new minions would make life easier, but on the contrary, it actually meant a great deal more work -- mostly for Zelenka, admittedly, but that was beside the point. There were nearly a hundred new idiots running around, and while supposedly they had all been briefed and given detailed informative packets, inevitably they began to promptly screw up in a thousand ways. Mostly they did so in ways that involved people who were not Rodney -- touching the wrong plant in botany, poking at strange Ancient devices with bright red warning labels, getting lost in the sublevels and needing a marine rescue -- but of course sooner or later someone managed to require his attention. Rodney still wasn't sure what Dr. Burroughs had done to so thoroughly break his shower that it'd taken Rodney, Zelenka, and three marines with a crowbar the better part of two hours to get him out of it. At least after a month most of the accidents had stopped, and Rodney had set to work trying to get the newbies doing something useful. It was a sad testament to the state of so-called 'higher education' that people with bachelor's and master's degrees were easier to train than those with Ph.D.s, because at least the former would admit they didn't know anything at all. The less said about department meetings, the better.

Rodney was currently on his way to a meeting of sorts, although thankfully this one probably wouldn't involve anyone pretending to have a brain. Then again, Woolsey had called it, and so who could tell what sort of ridiculous complaint the man had come up with now.

He was pleasantly surprised to arrive at the conference room and find that, in addition to Woolsey and John, Sam Carter was there as well. Rodney's face lit up as he said, "Sam! What are you doing here?"

Sam smiled at him. "Good morning, Rodney. I'm fine. How are you?"

"Right, right, sorry," Rodney said with a wave of his hand. "I'm good. Great, even."

"Carter's here to help us with out upcoming bureaucrat infestation," John said in a grumpy tone, making Rodney wondered who'd pissed in his cereal this morning.

"Well, that's not how I'd have put it, but yeah," Sam said, glancing at John like he was a child, which wasn't far from the truth most days. "There is going to be a delegation from Earth arriving in a couple of days, made of several of the IOA's current board and a few other dignitaries. They'll be here to take a tour, meet people, see how things are going for themselves. The usual VIP stuff."

"It should be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate how much excellent work we're doing here," Woolsey said. He didn't sound very confident, even less so than he usually did, and when Rodney glanced between Sam and John she was looking decidedly skeptical and John's mouth was pressed into a tight line.

"What? This is good news, right? Sure, it'll be a waste of time, but maybe this means they're going to pay a bit more attention to us and are ready to recognize our brilliance, and by that I mean mine. If we're lucky we could get some more funding." Now both John and Sam were frowning, and even Rodney's (most) (usually) (okay, rarely) optimistic personality couldn't keep up the good cheer in the face of their collective dourness. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"I wouldn't be too sure they're coming to actually investigate, so much as cover their asses before stabbing us in the back," John said.

Woolsey made an unhappy little grunt, like someone had just kicked his dog, and said, "And I'll tell you again, colonels, I think you're both overreacting."

"Overreacting to what?" Rodney asked.

"They're going to be giving us more funding, Rodney," John said. "If anything, they're going to take it away."

"There's been a growing consensus at the Pentagon and in the oversight committee that it would be best if Atlantis ceased all off-world activity, beyond what's necessary to maintain operations," Sam said. "They'll leave everyone here, because Atlantis itself is fairly popular with the public, but fighting the Wraith is rather less so."

"Tell him the rest," John growled, in that scary 'I'm going to kill everyone between here and the gate' growl he got when people started pointing guns at the team.

Sam hesitated, then reluctantly went on, "Okay. Right now, there's a couple of planetary defense projects at Area 51 that are in the works and need a lot of power, and so there's been a few suggestions that there's some resources here that would be better used back home."

"What do you mean resources? Unless there's a sudden shortage of cheap Dell laptops," Rodney said, at which point his brain caught up with his mouth, "Oh _fuck_ you mean the ZPM, don't you?"

"It's mostly just a few rumors around Homeworld Security right now," Sam hastened to say. "Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything to actually happen, certainly not soon. I mean, can you imagine how long it would take the IOA to make this kind of decision, especially given that there'd be the question as to where the ZPM would end up? Still, the committee doesn't always share everything it's doing with Homeworld, so its possible they're keeping a lid on it."

"Or more like it means that no one wants to do anything like you suggest," Woolsey put in. "I'm sure that if there were any discussions about taking the ZPM by the IOA, I would have heard something by now."

John rolled his eyes. "Because they're still in the habit of telling you everything."

"I -- well." Woolsey seemed to deflate a little. "You may have a point there."

"In any case, General O'Neill wanted me here to make sure you're prepared for when they show up, and to lend a hand in promoting the expedition's importance," Sam told them. "We think that if we can make a good enough case and show how well things are going, they won't be able to do anything no matter how much they want to."

"To which end we will be having meeting of all the department heads and senior officers this afternoon," Woolsey said. "I'll leave it to the two of you to inform your subordinates and start brainstorming on ideas on how put our best face forward and prevent any... incidents. Also, given that what Colonel Carter has mentioned is still as yet completely unsubstantiated, I don't want you to tell anyone else about the possible problem. There is no need to alarm anyone."

"Right," John said with an obviously fake smile, and Rodney quickly nodded along while wondering how Woolsey had been in Atlantis for so long and still not recognize that the chances of something this big remaining secret was next to zero.

"Well, in that case, you're dismissed. Colonel Carter, I believe you and I have some planning of our own to do in the meantime."

Sam smiled half-heartedly and said to John and Rodney, "I'll see you two this afternoon."

Rodney politely waited until they'd left earshot to say, "We're fucked, aren't we?"

"You have no idea," John replied.

**\--- 8.4 ---**   
_(May 21, 2010)_

There was an unsettled atmosphere among those gathered in a small, out-of-the way meeting room in a disused building near the edge of the city. There were nine of them there, each one a cell leader in what passed for an organizational structure among the secessionists, and while they were drinking coffee, eating freshly bake cookies, and chatting freely, everyone knew that there could not be any good reason for them to have been summoned with next to no warning.

"Okay, guys, looks like everyone's here so how about we get seated," John said, and the others began taking seats around the triangular table, with Rodney at his left and Teyla at his right. Along one of the other sides sat Evan, Stackhouse, and Chuck, and on the third Zelenka, Keller, and Ronon. "So, um, I'm calling this executive meeting of... of... what are we calling ourselves now?"

John suspected that, if Kate Heightmeyer were still alive, she could write a paper on how schizophrenic their secret society was when it came to changing names.

"RAMEN, sir," Chuck supplied, after a glance at his tablet. "The Revolutionary Action Mafia for Expediting Nationhood."

"Right, RAMEN. Calling it to order." John looked down at his tablet, where he'd made out a rough agenda. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to think of a good way to say what he wanted, but after a few long moments people started to fidget and he just went for blunt: "You all know about the upcoming IOA visit. What you don't know is it's just a cover for taking our ZPM. We need to be ready to move before they do it."

As he'd expected, there was a brief moment of silence, then uproar as everyone but Ronon started to talk at once. Luckily, Rodney was the only one given to shouting over everyone else and he'd already heard this, and they all quieted down after a few seconds.

Teyla cleared her throat, and asked, "Are you certain?"

"Let's just say I've got a pretty unimpeachable source right at the top," John said. "There have been high-level talks among a majority of the IOA nations for taking it to improve planetary defenses. This inspection is just a formality; the decision's already been made."

Evan leaned forward, his face creased with worry. "How soon are we talking?"

"Obviously, it can't be sent by the gate, so we have a little time. The _Apollo_ is scheduled to depart Earth by the end of next week, so that gives us just over a month at most. My guess is they won't inform us until it actually arrives, but I want us secure well before we have to deal with a ship in orbit."

"Fuck," Stackhouse muttered under his breath, while across from him Keller slumped down into her chair. Zelenka shook his head and said something under his breath.

John held up his hand. "Now, this isn't a withdraw we're talking about. We'd still have naquadah generators and the other power sources we've been working on. Still, it'd be a pretty big setback and I think we can't afford to let it happen."

"Setback?" Rodney spat. "It wouldn't just be a setback, it'd be a disaster. I mean, yes, we can run a lot of systems with just secondary power, and if we had to we could use capacitor discs from the ships, but we'd still loose a lot of critical functions. The shield's the biggest one, because we might be able to bring it up but it'd last all of two seconds under bombardment. No, if they take it, we'd be dead the instant a Wraith ship found us."

"Okay, hold on. I'm going to play devil's advocate for a second. Let's say they do take the ZPM," Keller said. "Isn't the ZPM factory Radek's repairing going to able to make us plenty of them? We can just announce we've made a breakthrough and plug in a new one. We can make do for a while, can't we?"

"We've only just tested the energy converters, we won't be ready to even start fabrication for another month," Radek replied with a shake of his head. "That assumed everything goes smoothly, which is unlikely. We could be unprotected for half a year or more."

"Then we'd have to come up with an excuse for finding it, which would be hard if they stop off-world missions," Evan added. "I wouldn't put it past them to just snatch that one, too, even just as a backup for their backup."

Keller sighed, and said, "I'm guessing announcing we've found the thing is out, too."

Radek spoke up again. "That would just cause worse problems. The facility is designed to be mobile. It would be relatively easy to adapt a spare hyperdrive assembly from a 304 for it and fly it off to the Milky Way."

"Which would leave us even more screwed then we already are," John finished. He looked at Keller and shrugged. "I don't think that's an option."

She nodded glumly. "It was just a thought."

"So, what I'm thinking for tonight is that we need to figure out exactly where we stand on all our plans and get the details of what we're going to do hammered out." John turned to Teyla. In addition to being John's second in command over the entire scheme, she was also the one in charge of many of the practical necessities on account of being one of the only people with experience actually running a self-sustaining community. "Were do we stand on supplies?"

"I believe we are well-prepared with regards to food. Between our hydroponics, aquaculture, and the... food cubes, we can be self-sufficient. It will not be varied fare, but it will be nutritious and we can get more through trade."

John nodded. Botany had finally started to reliably produce fresh fruit, and the local fish weren't too bad. The Ancient equivalent of processed food also wasn't all that bad, even if it was oddly-flavored, came in bright primary colors, and looked a lot like play-dough. It was also best not to ask where the 'bulk organic material' it was created from originated.

"Radek?"

"Engineering is much the same. We have adequate spares for the Earth-built equipment and could make more, and _Asimov_ and the tug are more or less ready. However, most of our construction material is exhausted, so we'll need to find a new source to scavenge material from."

"Evan, we ready for that?"

Evan nodded. "There's a ruined Ancient outpost we've scoped out as a naquadah source, and for metals we can grab an asteroid. You just have to give the word."

"In the meantime, we've already started fabrication of the most time-consuming components with what resources we do have," Radek added.

"Okay, good. I want us ready to bolster our defenses as soon as we make our move." John rolled his stylus between his fingers. "Evan, Stacks, I'll leave it to you to make sure the duty schedules work out so our guys are in position when things go down. We'll need to make sure to secure the armories beforehand. And speaking of weapons, Rodney?"

"Hmm? Oh, right, you want your new gun," Rodney said. "Zelenka, did you bring it?"

"Yes, Rodney," Radek said with a roll of his eyes. He reached under his chair and picked up a case, which he deposited on the table. As he opened it up, he said, "We've been working on these for a while now. For obvious reasons, we wanted something that would blend in but still be useful. This was the result."

John's eyes grew wide as Radek withdrew his creation and handed it over. He felt like a giddy kid on Christmas morning as he turned the classic phaser pistol over in his hand and reverently examined every detail of it.

"You guys," he breathed, with a burst of geeky love threatening to overwhelm him, "are really, really _awesome_."

"Of course we are," Rodney said with a sniff, preening as the others all leaned forward for a better look. John had a sudden irrational urge to hide his new toy. "Your Friend the Computer drew up the physical design, but it still took me quite a bit of -" Zelenka snorted, and Rodney glared at him, "Okay, it took me and Zelenka a bit of work to figure out how to get all the components to fit, but we did it."

"We thought that it would be easier to hide and explain away if found with that shape," Zelenka said, "given how, ah, enthusiastic some members of the expedition are for science fiction. There are a few other models, but I assumed you are satisfied with that one?"

"Hell, yes, I am," John said. "It's fully functional, right?"

"Of course it is," Rodney snapped, looking offended. "Stun, kill, disintegrate, the whole works. It even has a genetic lock to keep unauthorized people from firing it."

"Mine's better," Ronon said from across the room, where he sat near the snack table. At time, John suspected the only reason he came to the meetings was for the food and for the entertainment of watching everyone else argue.

"It is not," John and Rodney said simultaneously. Rodney went on, "In any case, despite the very advanced features even your grunts should be able to figure out how to use them. Turn the dial, point, pull trigger, it's child's play."

"Cool. Radek, Stacks, you two get them distributed to whoever you think will need them the most."

"Not a problem."

"Yes, sir."

"And this brings us to my next point: hiding all our preparations," John said. "There are going to be a few things we can't conceal too easily, so we're going to need a distraction to keep everyone's eyes looking the right way. Chuck?"

"David and I have a couple of plans for getting all the civilians out of the way, and it should definitely make sure Woolsey is too busy dealing with other problems," Chuck said. "We just need a good reason to get things rolling, something to motivate everyone to go along."

"I think I've got an idea," Evan said. "I think it'll motivate people here, and throw everyone back on Earth for a loop as well."

"What's that?" John asked.

Evan grinned back at him. "Oh, nothing much, but I think you'll like it. I can't tell you now, though. It'd ruin the surprise."

"Oh, come on, at least give us a hint."

"Nope," Evan said cheekily.

"Evan," John said, with puppy dog eyes.

"John."

"Lorne," John bit out, trying to stern this time.

"Sheppard."

"_Lieutenant Colonel_," John growled, eyes narrow.

"Colonel."

"Will you two get on with it?" Rodney snapped.

"I am sure that Evan's plan, whatever it is, will be fine," Teyla said in a firm, commanding voice, "so perhaps it would be best to move on for now."

John tried to stare Evan down for a few seconds longer, but the man refused to do anything but sit there and look innocent, and so John eventually had to give up. "Fine. Right. Okay, so I think that covers the basics, so now we're going to move on to actually planning out exactly what we're going to do, and come up with some contingencies. Since we've got time to set things up, I'm thinking that a variant on Plan Sheridan would work better than a Reynolds...."


	10. Precipice

**\--- 9.1 ---**   
_(May 25, 2010)_

The next few days seemed to blur past like the swirls of hyperspace, until the next thing John knew he was standing in the gate room watching as the gate kawooshed open and creatures nearly as dangerous as the Wraith began spilling forth. He, Rodney, Teyla, and Keller were all arrayed off to one side, and they had all been sure to dress in their sharpest, least patched uniforms. Meanwhile, Woolsey and Carter stood dead center before the gate, prepared to enter into mortal combat with the horrible invaders that would be occupying the city for the next four days. That was how John was viewing the situation, at least, and it was unlikely he would admit things were not quite that bad.

The gate slurped and out stepped a three-star Army general, who according to the briefing was a man named Jason Forrester. Close behind him came another general, this one a woman wearing an RAF uniform, followed by a Bundeswehr colonel. A few civilians in suits stepped through after them, none of whom John recognized, and then a horde of minions, some uniformed and some not but all towing baggage, began flowing through. John shook his head slightly at the thought of how much energy was being sucked from the Earthside ZPM for each one of them. Of course, the alternative was for them to go by ship, and that just wouldn't do for a group like this.

As the wormhole disengaged, Woolsey stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Richard Woolsey, and this is Colonel Samantha Carter. On behalf of everyone here, I'd like to welcome you to Atlantis," he said with either heartfelt enthusiasm, or, even more impressive, something indistinguishable from it. Woolsey had his faults, although less than he'd had a year ago, but when dealing with bureaucrats and senior officials he was in his element. "We are all extremely excited and privileged to have you visiting us this week, and I sincerely think that you will find your time here most informative."

"Thank you, Mr. Woolsey, for such a warm welcome. It's a real honor to be here. In case I don't get a chance to say this later, I want you all to know that back home we're all extremely impressed by the courage, dedication, and skill that you've shown during the past five years, " Forrester said, looking around the room as he did so, although to John it seemed like he was looking straight through everyone there.

The more time John had to study him, the more he was set on edge. Forrester spoke with a generic New Englander accent with a just a hint of a southern drawl creeping in, and his tone was cheerful and friendly. His hair was gray and just the right length to look distinguished but not old, his posture was perfect, and his teeth all but sparkled in the afternoon sunlight coming through the window. He may as well have been a textbook example of a flag officer, a facade without the slightest hint of what actually lay underneath.

In short, he reminded John of his father, and not in a good way.

"Luckily we're currently fairly close to mountain time, so we're going to let you all get settled in first and then begin with a tour, after which there is going to be a reception," Carter said. She was smiling too, although the slight stiffness in her posture and expression reminded John of the times he'd seen her speaking with Todd. "Now, if you'll just follow us, please, we'll show you to your quarters."

"Can I just shoot them all now?" John muttered as the VIPs followed Woolsey and Carter off into the city.

"I was under the impression that this was to be a 'bloodless revolution'," Teyla reminded him.

"No one would miss any of them."

"Bloodless," Teyla repeated, before grudgingly adding, "Although I can understand the desire."

"Did you notice there weren't any Russians or Chinese?" Rodney asked.

"Huh," Keller said. "You know, you're right. That's weird."

"Ominous is more like it," John muttered, with a glance the way the dignitaries had gone. "Well, boys and girls, I guess we should go make sure our departments are ready for the dog and pony show. It wouldn't do for things to be less than perfect when our illustrious visitors come by."

 

**\--- 9.2 ---**   
_(May 27, 2010)_

"Can you repeat that, Colonel?" Sam asked as she stared at the map of the city and the numerous lifesigns that dotted it.

"I said, we've got some of them trapped in auxiliary control," Lorne shouted through the control room's speakers, over the sound of weapons fire in the background that threatened to drown him out. "They've got the entrance pretty well barricaded, though. It's going to be a bitch getting them out of there without heavier firepower."

"Damn it," Sam muttered under her breath. She studied that particular part of the city and tried to think of options. "It doesn't look like there's anyone within ten minutes of your position who's not pinned down. Can you hold them that long?"

"Sure thing," Lorne replied.

"What's the problem?" Sam turned to Diane Pierson standing close behind her with her camera, while further back General Forrester was leaning against one of the consoles and watching with interest.

"It looks like some of the enemy have managed to take over the auxiliary control room," Sam explained. "It'll make taking over the city's systems a lot more difficult."

"Oh, I see."

As part of the IOA inspection tour, John and Sam had decided to stage a demonstration wargame to show off the city's defense plans. Even now, groups of opposing combatants were playing hide and seek throughout most of the city, with the exception of a few areas designated off-limits where those not involved were currently tucked away. Sam's side had numerical superiority and control of the operations tower, but she knew better than to underestimate what John's team could do if given enough time, and she'd been doing her best to trap them for the better part of an hour. Unfortunately, while she had access to the lifesigns detector, McKay had managed to kill the transporters and John's forces were leading hers on a merry chase around the city. Not only that, but whatever McKay had done to the stargate's dialing system had her so flummoxed that she'd given up on even trying to achieve that victory condition and settled for just killing or capturing everyone.

"Do you do this sort of thing regularly, Colonel?" Forrester asked, coming up to stand next to Sam.

"Actually, yes. The city has frequent disaster drills for number of situations, from fires to bombardment to invasion. Usually everyone participates, including the civilians," Sam told him. That had been one of the big surprises when she'd arrived. At the SGC, it had always been a pain in the ass to get base-wide drills performed, and trying to get the civilians who weren't on teams to play along had inevitably resulting in endless bitching. Here in Atlantis, though, while there were occasional complaints they were usual half-hearted and even the complainers participated to the best of their abilities. "The marines always have their own drills going on, but at least when I was in charge we ran a city-wide drill every month. Really, this one's fairly limited, as most of the population is locked up."

"Interesting. It's good to know everyone takes base security so seriously," Forrester said with a nod. "And I understand this is a worst-case scenario?"

"Exactly. A hostile force gaining control over stargate operations and who knows what they're doing is about as bad as it could get, short of a full-scale invasion. Essentially, this covers anything from, say, hostile Ancients or Ori to key personnel being suborned by mind control or Goa'uld."

Pierson spoke up again to ask, "And I understand this sort of thing has happened before, yes?"

"There have been a few cases like that, yes, although mostly at the SGC. Luckily, we've had a lot of experience in detecting altered individuals and dealing with foothold situations and have developed considerable countermeasures." Just then the lights flickered, and Sam turned to where Chuck was sitting. "What was that?"

"Looks like someone's trying to hack into the control system, ma'am. We're keeping them out so far, but I'm not sure how long that will last."

Sam winced and reactivated the channel to Lorne. "Lorne, Carter. Do you know who's in there?"

"I was just about to call you about that, ma'am," Lorne replied. "I think it's Rodney, Teyla, and a couple of marines. I'm sure you can see the problem."

"What problem?" Pierson asked.

"Yeah, I can. Is there any sign of the other two?" Sam said, before answering the reporter with, "If Rodney and Teyla are there, Sheppard and Ronon should be nearby."

"None at all. Are the sensors clear?"

"Yeah," Sam said after a second. "No one but friendlies near you."

"Maybe we managed to snag with one of the traps in the D block," Lorne said, not sounding convinced in the least even as he suggested it.

"Maybe. Listen, Rodney's up to something. I need you to stop him somehow."

"I've got Zelenka with me, he's trying to kill the power to aux control."

"Try to hurry it up. If he can't get it by the time your reinforcements arrive, you'll have to do things the hard way."

"Roger that, ma'am. Lorne out." Just before the channel cut off again, Sam heard Lorne shouting, "Surrender or die, rebel scum!"

Sam chuckled, but the momentary humor she felt was quickly replaced by concern. She walked over to Chuck's console and leaned over to see what was going on with the computer. "Okay, what is he up to?"

She got her answer when without warning every door in the room chose that moment to slide open.

"It looks like every interior door in the control tower just opened, ma'am," Chuck reported. He tapped at his controls and after a minute the frustrated technician added, "And I can't get them to close."

"Why would he do that?" Sam asked with a puzzled frown.

"It was probably easier to open all the doors than just the ones here in the control room," he suggested.

"Maybe. It won't do much good, we've got all the approaches guarded already and Sheppard has to realize that."

"It's a distraction, then."

Sam bit her lip, but nodded. "Could be. For what, though?"

Across the room, the marine corporal she'd assigned to monitor the security systems called, "Colonel, several life signs just appeared in the jumper bay. I don't know where they came from, they must have found a shielded shaft or something to climb through."

"Neat trick. He opens the doors to make us redeploy our guards in that direction, then sneaks in the back. He's in for a surprise." A toothy grin spread across Sam's face. She'd already anticipated the possibility that John would use a jumper from one of the secondary bays to do an end run around her guards, and so she'd station a half-dozen men to watch the stairs leading down, along with a stun grenade attached to a tripwire. When there was no report of any contact after half a minute, she asked, "Can you see what they're doing?"

"Sorry, ma'am, the cameras are still out. From what I can see on sensors, they're doing something near the jumpers."

"Huh. What's in there that they'd be wasting time on? Maybe he's planning on flying one down to -- wait a second." Sam froze in place as the information she had began to slot into place like pieces of a puzzle. She turned to Chuck and demanded, "Did you say _all_ of the interior doors in the control tower?"

"As far as I can tell, yes, ma'am."

"Crap. Get Cortez to the jumper bay now, and -"

Sam didn't have time to finish her sentence before the sound of stunner fire filled the air. The marines guarding the lower entrance to the gateroom didn't even have a chance to react before they were felled. Sam had a second to register the black-suited forms descending on ropes from the big hole in the ceiling before she grabbed both Pierson and Forrester and pulled them down to the floor, just before a hail of blue bolts swept across the control room proper and most of those standing in it. Sam started to scramble for a stunner one of the fallen marines had dropped, only to stop short when someone swung through the balcony opening and nearly landed on Chuck, at which point she found herself staring up into the barrel of Ronon's blaster.

"Bang," he said with a wolfish grin. Sam sighed and sat back with a resigned chuckle.

"Barnes, go deal with the guys at the stairs before they know we're here, then meet up with Blair's team and sweep upwards," she heard John order, and a few moments later he strutted into the control room looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Colonel. General. Ms. Pierson. Enjoying the show?"

"Oh, definitely," Pierson said as John helped her up. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

"I try," John said, as he stepped over Chuck and sat down at the main console. "Ronon, head upstairs, make sure no one's still lurking up that way."

"That was certainly unexpected," Forrester said from over at the balcony, where he was staring up at the gateroom ceiling. "I hadn't realized that opened up. Did you have that equipment prepositioned, or have you been lugging it around the whole time?"

"There's rappelling gear in all the jumpers," Sam told him. "I made sure to secure the set in the main gear room, since Colonel Sheppard's proven willing to scale this building before."

"I figured that if I'd climbed up the outside once, I may as well go down the inside," John said, tapping away at the keyboard. With a final flourish, he finished, "And command functions are now restored to the good guys. Give us another thirty minutes or so to finish mopping up and we'll have the city secure."

"That easily?" Forrester asked.

Sam shrugged. "Now that he's got control of the city's systems again, he can selectively activate the transporters and use the internal sensors, which means he can concentrate his forces from across the city and defeat the invading team in detail. I'd be surprised if it takes as long as that."

"Well, Colonel Sheppard, I'm certainly impressed. It seems your reputation for being able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat is well deserved."

"To be fair, Sam did nearly get us a couple of times," John said, leaning back in his chair and gracing them with a boyish smile. "If Lorne and Zelenka had been just a bit faster or luckier, we probably wouldn't have gotten out of the jumper bay."

"Still, I can't imagine a Wraith or anyone else having nearly as many advantages."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this also show that an experienced group could take control of the city?" Pierson asked.

Sam suppressed an annoyed grimace and instead managed to conjure up a smile. "Maybe, but now we'll be a bit better prepared for that, too, and it's very unlikely that such a large force as John had could be suborned or get into the city. One of the benefits of running these operations is that afterwards we can examine both sides and see what we can improve for either contingency."

"Oh, yeah," John said with an even larger grin than before. "This was a great trial run and learning experience for everyone. I'm sure we'll put it to good use."

**\--- 9.3 ---**   
_(May 29, 2010)_

John had taken to hiding in his office as much as possible for the duration of the 'IOA' tour-slash-inspection-slash-investigation. The simple fact of the matter was that there was only so much time he could spend sparring without getting turned into hamburger, and with one upcoming exception Woolsey had pointedly made sure that his team's schedule was clear. Hanging out in the labs was also out of the question, except for when it was time to show off the more impressive Ancient doodads, because the last thing anyone needed was for some high-ranking desk jockey to realize just how much time he spent during an average day playing video golf on Rodney's big screen. Being stuck in his office didn't stop him from fucking around on his computer, but somehow it just wasn't as fun without Rodney's constant bitching in the background.

Late in the afternoon, two days before the gibbering horde was scheduled for departure, John was distracted in the middle of a Starcraft II game by a knock on his door, quickly followed by the door chime. Given that even the slowest of the new guys had long since stopped knocking, it could only mean the enemy was at his gate.

"Who is it, Mike?" John asked.

_"I'm afraid it's the Chief Slimeball, boss."_

"Damn it." John considered just pretending not to be in, but knowing his luck it'd end up biting him in the ass. He exited his game and brought up a spreadsheet, then called out, "Come in!"

The door slid open and Forrester stepped into the office. John leisurely rose to his feet and said, "Afternoon, sir. Something I can do for you?"

"I wanted to have a little chat with you, colonel. Unless I'm interrupting something important?"

Even John knew better than to say 'yes' when a general asked that question. "Of course not, sir. Please, make yourself at home."

Forrester settled into a chair across from John. "I have a few things I need to touch base with you on, son, and since you're going to be gone much of tomorrow I thought it would be best to catch you now. It should only take a few minutes."

"That's probably a good idea, sir, because you never know when a mission might end up taking all day." Or all night, which was exactly what John was hoping for. The Revkani were always happy to have visitors, especially visitors with chocolate, and it wouldn't be hard to get an invitation for 'diplomatic discussions' in the tavern that would last well past midnight, leaving John just enough time to nip home and see the IOA off in the morning.

"First off, I'm sure you know that one purpose of this visit is an evaluation of how things are going out here. I'm sure you know the IOA has had issues with decisions made in Atlantis before, but from what my colleagues and I have seen it's been cleaned up a lot since Woolsey arrived. The military detachment in particular has passed with flying colors. There are a few quibbles here and there about some policies and procedures, but I can see why adjustments had to be made, and your performance has been impressive, damned impressive."

Forrester said it all with a charming smile and a warm, almost paternalistic voice. It was more or less the same smile and the same jovial tone that he'd had since the minute he'd arrived. John didn't think the man's expression had ever slipped below polite disinterest, let alone an actual frown, and even those moments were rare. John had quickly decided that he didn't remind him of his father after all. At least that bastard had let his real emotions out at times to show displeasure or, on rare occasions, genuine affection and happiness. Forrester's creepy perfection set off every alarm John had acquired from growing up around his father's colleagues, twenty years of service politics, and innumerable encounters with back-stabbing alien potentates.

"I'll be sure to pass the complement along, sir," John said. He had a smile of his own, the 'nice doggy, let me get stick' smile he used when dealing with said backstabbers, albeit with varying effectiveness. Forrester seemed to buy it, though, maybe because he was so used to people sucking up to him that he either didn't notice the difference between that and a real smile, or didn't care anymore as long as his subordinates at least acted obsequious enough.

"Now, I'm sure you've heard some rumors about why else we're here, regarding the long-term prospects of expedition."

"Yes, sir, but you know what isolated bases like this are like with rumors. If I believed them all them all, I'd think you were a reptile wearing a human suit."

Forrester chuckled. "True enough. In any case, we're going to recommend that the city continue to be occupied on a permanent basis, with more or less the current funding and staffing. In the end, it's not that big of a drain on the budget, not in terms of money or conventional supplies."

"That's good to hear, sir," John said, sitting up a little straighter and narrowing his eyes at the word 'conventional'.

"I'll admit, there have been some serious discussions of possibly reducing the population to a skeleton crew, just enough for defense and basic maintenance. There's even some who say we'd be better off abandoning Atlantis entirely for a time, maybe going so far as destroying it outright," Forrester continued on. "After all, we've got the Asgard data core back home, and unlike the Atlantis database it's safely in friendly hands."

John bristled at the very idea of destroying Atlantis for such a flimsy reason, and try as he might he couldn't stop some of the tension he felt from leaking into his voice. "Sir, even the Asgard admitted they hadn't so much as scratched the full knowledge stored in the Ancient repositories, let alone what's here."

"Of course, of course. Still, it'll be a long time before we can fully utilize it, and I hate to admit it but we'd be better off concentrating on things back home for a while." John didn't think for a second he really meant felt that way. "Our efforts and our resources have to be dedicated to what's going on back home for the next few years. There are a number of programs that are underway that will guarantee the safety of the United States and her allies. Her real allies, that is, not the ones we've been forced into bed with just to keep things a secret."

John nodded slowly but stayed silent, and the general continued.

"In fact, I think the upcoming changes that my committee will propose will likely include a little housecleaning. There will probably be quite a bit of bitching from the Chinese and the U.N., but the simple fact of the matter is that right now we control the stargate and virtually all the starships capable of an intergalactic flight. The British have the _Ark Royal_ and the _Valiant_, but they're firmly on our side, and while the Russians have _Gagarin_ they seem content to go along for now. We expect that it'll be years before anyone else will be in a position to build real ships."

"I see," John cautiously said. "With all due respect, sir, while I understand the politics behind what you're saying, I can't stress enough how valuable and how dedicated all of the members of this expedition have been, regardless of nationality."

Forrester waved that away like it was nothing. "Certainly, certainly, and I admire your loyalty to them. Still, we have to guarantee security, and besides, you'll probably thank me later for lowering the population. The expedition shouldn't have been expanded in the first place, but it was decided before the current plan had been put in place."

"If I may ask, sir, what is the plan?"

"This doesn't go beyond this office, you hear? Not even to your friends."

"Of course, sir," John said, mentally crossing his fingers. For the first time since he'd left Hayes' office and started to work on the entire revolution mess he didn't feel so much as a twinge of guilt about lying his ass off.

"When the _Apollo_ arrives next month, it'll have a lot of supplies for you, including a pair of Mark IV generators. On the return trip to Earth, it'll be carrying the city's zero-point module, the political undesirables, and anyone else wishing to return home. Now, I know you don't like the idea, but our experts assure us that working in conjunction the Mark IVs can power the city shield or cloak for short periods, or sustain an outgoing wormhole long enough to evacuate the city. Once that's done, you all sit tight and wait about four, five years at most, at which point we come in with a real fleet and clean up this galaxy. You probably won't see any more ships until then, but there'll be steady supply through the gate and you do have that little boat of yours for emergencies. Any questions?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" At the general's nod, he blurted, "Sir, with all due respect, that plan sucks. It leaves the city too vulnerable to attack, and a lot of people in Pegasus will die if we wait that long to confront the Wraith again." John took a deep breath and after a count of ten released it. "With that said, if those are the orders I receive, I'll carry them out to the best of my ability."

"Of course you will, son," Forrester said, reaching out to clap John on the shoulder. "A couple of people back home thought I shouldn't tell you this and that you'd need to be relieved, but I knew that you'd come through as long as you could stay here. Luckily, that fits with what we want, and you're undeniably the most qualified for the job."

"Thank you for your trust, sir."

Forrester stood, and John quickly followed him. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, Colonel, but I've got to get going. I'm sure you'll want to start planning on how to best manage the transition. You can bring in any of the military staff you need to insure there'll be no trouble when the _Apollo_ arrives, as long as they can keep their mouths shut."

"I'll bring Colonel Lorne aboard immediately and get to work. I'd trust him with my life. I can assure you we'll do everything we can to insure the safety and success of this expedition."

"Excellent. Have a good day, Colonel."

With that, Forrester left, all but leaving behind a trail of slime where he walked, and as the door closed John shut his eyes and bit out, "Mike, is the soundproofing on?"

_"It is now, boss."_

"Fuck!" John shouted, grabbing at the nearest object on his desk and throwing it against the wall so hard that pieces went flying every direction. He stare forlornly at the crumpled PDA, hoping there hadn't been anything important on it, and as he bent down to pick up the pieces he muttered, "I'll show you a safe transition, you bastard."

 

**\--- 9.4 ---**   
_(May 31, 2010)_

For a supposedly alien planet, P2X-080 looked suspiciously like coastal Oregon to Diane. It had the same trees, the same birds, the same squirrels, the same pleasant breeze, and the same sun. Back when she'd been preparing for this trip off-world, one of the ecologists had mentioned something about the Ancients having terraformed many planets to resemble Earth and that they also tended to place gates in temperate regions, but no one had explicitly said that it would look exactly the same as it did back home. Maybe she should have been glad that it was at least nice to look at and not some hellhole like a Florida swamp or the middle of Iowa, but it was hard to be optimistic.

On the other hand, she definitely was glad that Colonel Sheppard had agreed to allow her to accompany his team as they performed a routine visit to one of Atlantis' trade partners. It had been scheduled long before the IOA visit had been announced, and rather than try to put it off Sheppard had instead decided that it'd be a good chance for some of the VIPs to meet Pegasus natives besides the Athosians. For that reason, the team was accompanied by three of the lower-ranking dignitaries as well as squad of marines acting as escorts and pack mules.

"Is there any reason that the stargate is located so far from the village?" Diane asked as they trudged along a well-worn path. "Is it because they don't like visitors or for defense against the Wraith?"

"Some peoples do locate themselves away from the gate for those reasons, yes," Teyla answered, "But with the Revkani, as with most others, it is simply a matter of convenience for everyday life. The town is near a small river they use to power their mill and for drinking water, and is also closer to the best fields."

"And it's there because they want to torture anyone trying to visit," McKay huffed from behind them.

"Two miles is not that far, Rodney," Teyla said with a smile, and from the familiar ease of the response Diane guessed it was less of a _non sequitur_ than it seemed. "You have walked much further many times."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"A little fresh air will do you some good, buddy," Sheppard said from the front of the group.

"The air in my lab is perfectly fresh. If anything, it's even better than the air here, with all the bugs and the dust and the pollen and who knows what the hell else is floating about. Need I remind you of what happened on M9X-841?"

"Shut up," Ronon suddenly said. The big man had stopped without warning a few yards ahead of Sheppard and waved his hand in what must have been some sort of signal, because all the other Atlanteans stopped as well.

"What do you mean, shut up?" McKay said. Despite his indignant tone, he to anxiously watch the trees around them while pulling out an Ancient scanner with one hand and resting the other on his sidearm.

"Smell that?" Ronon asked.

"Smoke," Teyla said softly, pointing at the low rise ahead. Diane could just barely make out what might be wisps of smoke against the blue skies, but it easily could have been just another cloud.

"Couldn't it just be cooking fires or something?" Diane asked.

Instead of answering her, Sheppard said, "Fournier, take two men and get the VIPs back to the city. Inform Woolsey that we need a disaster team."

One of the soldiers nodded, giving orders to a couple of his fellows and politely instructing the IOA representatives to follow along. They seemed happy enough to comply, but Diane said, "Colonel! I'd like to come along with you, please."

He turned to her and she nearly recoiled with shock. The laid-back joker she'd grown accustomed to since her arrival was nowhere to be seen, replaced by tense man whose face was lined with worry and who had something angry and frightening in his eyes. Flatly, he said, "Really."

Diane swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

"Fine. Stay out of the way, stick close to Ronon, and do what he says." He turned back to the trail and began hurrying along it, tersely telling Ronon, "Keep her from getting herself killed," as he passed him.

A minute later they came over the ridge and were overlooking plain on which their destination was located. Diane had seen a few pictures of the town before their departure. It had looked large for a settlement with technology barely equal to that of Europe's Renaissance era, perhaps several hundred buildings with surprisingly wide stone-paved roads and a large, boisterous market square. It had even boasted a simple but effective sewer that emptied well downstream, a reminder that even if they didn't look like much now, the people of Pegasus were not ignorant of science and modern knowledge.

What now stood in the town's place couldn't have been more different from the one in the images. Virtually all of the buildings were piles of charred timbers at best, with a few burnt-out stone husks still standing here and there. Many of the former had obviously been hit with some sort of light artillery fire, not unlike ones she had seen before, first in Bosnia and then Afghanistan. It was eerily quiet, with almost no noise other than the wind and the distant sound of barking dogs, and as they ventured into the town itself Diane was startled to realize that, unlike the aftermath of other battles or disasters she'd seen, there wasn't a body to be found.

Further inside the ruins, they came upon a tall, thin, balding man bent over some of wreckage. He was wearing a dirty brown tunic and equally dirty pants, and his arms and face were smeared with ash. As they came to a stop near him, he stood up straight, wincing as he did, and solemnly said, "Colonel Sheppard. Teyla Emmagen. "It is good to see you."

"Councilor Terag. It is good to see you as well," Teyla said. She looked around the burnt-out buildings, and spoke a single word loaded with meanings that Diane couldn't begin to decipher. "Wraith?"

"Just last night." The councilor drew a breath, and obviously struggling told them, "I am afraid we can not... can not offer you the same hospitality you have previously enjoyed."

"That is of no concern," Teyla said, stepping closer and placing her hands on the man's shoulders. "How bad is it?"

"It could be worse. The mill and its pond are intact, as is the smithy and one of the granaries. Most of the herds were out to pasture as well."

"And your people?"

Terag seemed to crumple at the word. "There are perhaps a hundred left here. With luck, there are more in the outer villages and steadings who have yet to arrive."

Grim faced, Sheppard asked, "You have any injured?"

"Yes. Several burned, some broken bones. I would not wish to place any burden upon your people, but if you can help..."

"There is no need to ask," Teyla quickly said. "Our doctors will be here soon, along with our flying craft so that we may search for other survivors." She looked around once more, and added, "You will most likely need to relocate for a time. I doubt we can construct sufficient shelter before the storm season begins."

"Any assistance you will give is most welcome, Teyla Emmagen. We are in your debt."

Sheppard stepped forward and turned to face their group. "All right, everyone, listen up. Teyla, you go with the councilor and figure out what we're going to need in terms of supplies and transport. Everyone else split up into teams and search the ruins with scanners to make sure there's no one buried. Rodney, you're with me." His eyes settled on Diane and they seemed to burn right through her. "As for you, Ms. Pierson, go with Teyla and see if you can make yourself useful by reminding everyone back home why we're out here."

He turned and started walking off before she had a chance to reply, McKay at his side. Diane looked at Ronon, but he didn't spare her a glance either, and so she fumbled out her video camera, turned it on, and began filming everything she could.

"This is Diane Pierson, reporting from the planet Revkan in the Pegasus galaxy. We've just arrived on what was supposed to be a routine trade mission, but as you can see this world has been devastated by a Wraith, ah, culling. This should be a thriving town of thousands, but there's nothing left but ashes as far as the eye can see, and initial reports seem to indicate that there are less than a hundred people alive...."

**\--- 9.5 ---**   
_(June 1, 2010)_

John was starting to get a bit worried. The IOA delegation and their press minions had all gathered in the gate room in preparation of their return to Earth, which was scheduled to happen in less than a half hour. Despite that, there was no sign of Evan's much-awaited secret surprise distraction. Evan himself was still off-world getting the Revkani refugees settled in their temporary new home, a mutual trading partner who had offered to put them up until the settlement could be rebuilt. If nothing happened, it wouldn't be a disaster, but it'd certainly throw off their schedule more than John would like. Luckily, just before the Earth dial-out was about to being, the gate activated and the off-world activation alarm began blaring.

John looked over at Chuck and asked, "That our guys?"

"Yes, sir. We're receiving Captain Remington's IDC."

"It's about time." John turned back to General Forrester, with whom he'd been chatting. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll be right back."

He stepped out of the room and onto the balcony overlooking the gate just as the shield went down and Evan stumbled through, followed close behind by several marines. They all looked amused, not worried at all, and thankfully there was no call for a medical team. John had a moment of doubt when Evan sat down hard on the stairs and started giggling to himself, but Captain Remington just shook his head and patted Evan's shoulder as he walked past and started to come up. John met him at the top of the stairs.

"Something wrong with him, Captain?" John asked. He inwardly winced at the vague menace in his tone.

"Nothing to worry about, sir," Remington told him. "Just some truth roofies, they're supposed to wear off in an hour or so."

"Ah." That certainly explained the giggling, then. "How'd negotiations go?"

"They agreed to take in the refugees," the marine replied. "We're supposed to come back in a few days once everything is settled to discuss long-term plans."

"This sort of thing happen often?" John jumped to find Forrester right behind him, with a couple of the reporters and other dignitaries look on curiously from further away. John put on his best smile and nodded. Drugs were fairly normal, after all, something that people back home could understand. Compared to the other kinds of alien rituals that could have come up, this one was practically sane. On the other hand, the Morthellans had never drugged any team before. Something weird was going on.

"More often than you'd think," John told him. "A lot of planets have weird rituals they make you go through before they'll consider trading or letting you look at their Ancient ruins. Alcohol or other drugs can play a pretty big role a lot of the time, especially if there's a ritual celebration." Ritual celebration being code for things like 'drunken revel' or 'orgy', of course, but there was no need to mention that. John looked back at Remington. "They just drug him or anything else weird happen?"

"Not really, sir, they just asked him a few questions about the Revkani, whether we'd vouch for them and back any agreement that was made." Remington shrugged. "They let us sit in to make sure they didn't ask anything sensitive."

"That's a nice change," John muttered. "Well, get him to the infirmary, we'll debrief once he's come down. Make sure no one takes advantage of the opportunity to ask him anything embarrassing."

Remington nodded and headed back down the stairs, waving at his team to get Evan up and moving. They managed up, but when they tried to turn him around and aim him for the door Evan caught sight of John watching him. His already-broad grin got even wider, and he shoved his way past the marines and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The marines ran up after him but by the time they managed to grab hold of him again he was already face to face with John.

"John!" Evan said, "John, John, John. I've got so much to tell you, wow, this was a great mission."

"I'm sure it was, Colonel," John said, a hint of a smile working its way onto his face. "How about you go with the nice jarheads and see Doctor Keller, though?"

"Naw, I'm good, I'm good, I'm feeling great, better than great," Evan said, shaking his head like a wet dog trying to dry off. "I haven't been this high since I was seventeen, but wow I'm great. I'm sorry, am I interrupting something here? General, I have mentioned that you're a swell guy? 'Cause I think you are."

"Thank you, Colonel Lorne," Forrester replied, his voice filled with amusement. "That's good to hear."

"Not so swell when you're being all general-ly, though, but hey, you're just doing your job." He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Between you and me, this ZPM thing is going to suck donkey balls. You have no idea how pissy McKay will get, we'll never hear the end of it, and John, John will sulk for weeks and believe me, that's just awful. They'll probably blow something up in a cry for attention or something, no matter how hard I try to distract them."

Suddenly, Evan's drugged state was considerably less amusing to John, and instead was rapidly turning worrisome with every word down that line of thought. "Okay, I think it's about time for you to head off."

"Not so funny when he's talking about you, Sheppard?" Forrester rumbled.

"I'm going, I'm going," Evan said, starting to walk for the exit. Then he stopped and spun around. "Wait, wait, almost forgot! I need to do something. Here, hold on, I've got it here somewhere. I got this from my mom last time I was on Earth, been carrying it around since although I know I really shouldn't be taking it off-world, because who knows what might happen, but you never know when you might need this sort of thing, and now seems like a good time."

Evan dug around inside one of his jacket pockets and came out with a small box. John swallowed and stepped forward, but before he could say or do anything more Evan was down on one knee and every eye in the place was on them. "So I've been thinking about this for a while, and hey, truth roofies, great excuse, not that I need an excuse but you know. Anyways, I was just kinda wondering, would you marry me?"

John stared down at the ring Evan was holding up. He didn't say anything, because his mind was spinning in a dozen different directions and he didn't have a clue what he should say or do. Part of him was wondering whether he should laugh this off as drug-induced dementia or shove him away or what. None of their plans for different accidental outings had a scenario that included a proposition in the control room in front of a general officer, at least three VIPs who hated him, and a couple of reporters added in for good measure. Another part of his mind was wondering if this was accidental at all, and whether that mattered. Then Evan got small, hurt frown and John pulled him to his feet.

"Of course I will, you dork."

Evan's brilliant smile just before he kissed John was totally worth the gasps around the room, the angry hiss from the general, and the sudden barrage of camera flashes. He certainly couldn't think of a better way to end his Air Force career.


	11. Freefall

**\--- 10.1 ---**   
_(June 1, 2010)_

Inevitably, John and Evan ended up in the infirmary, with Evan sitting on the bed furthest from the entrance and John standing next to him. From the way the nurses kept looking over at them and giggling, it was obvious that word over what had transpired in the control room had already spread through the city. A few minutes after they arrived Keller came around the corner with a handful of medical gizmos and a broad grin.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I hear congratulations are in order," she said as she reached them. She sat her equipment down next to Evan. "Roll up your sleeve, please."

"He's finally decided to make me an honest man," John said.

"Someone had to," Evan said as Keller took a blood sample.

She smiled at him. "I couldn't think of a better person to do it. Now, if you'll just answer a few questions, I'll get out of your way before I'm tempted to ask you something embarrassing. Any headache, dizziness, pain?"

"Actually, doc, I'm feeling just fine," Evan replied with a smirk. "In fact, I'm feeling so great that I doubt you'll find anything interesting in my blood anymore."

John stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, then shouted, "You son of a bitch!"

Evan leaned closer to Keller and stage-whispered, "You know, people laughed at me when I took that drama elective, but between you and me I think it's turned out pretty damned useful."

"I can not believe this!"

"People always put down the arts," Keller said, ignoring John. "And if nothing comes up in your labs, well, I guess I'll just have to run them again. It could take weeks to figure out what they gave you."

"I should have known better than to believe you, you bastard!"

"I'm sure you'll find it if it turns out to be necessary, but I bet it won't."

"I am so going to kick your ass, Lorne!"

Keller looked between the two men and shook her head. "I'll just leave you two alone to work this out."

"I just hope that the mystery drug didn't do something awful like inhibit my libido," Evan told John with a mournful look. John glared back at him, before a smile finally started to force its way through his grumpy expression. Eventually, John shook his head and chuckled.

"I guess this is what I get for asking for a distraction."

"Pretty much. The chaos with the betting pool alone is going to keep everyone in a frenzy, and once Chuck and David get their ball rolling it's going to be great." Evan glanced at the door and nodded towards it. Carter and Woolsey were standing there, talking with Keller. "So, are we going try to deny everything, or what? Your call."

John considered it for a moment and replied, "I bet it'll more fun to tell them the truth and throw them for a loop."

"Sounds like a plan." Evan waved as Carter and Woolsey walked over to them and his expression slid back to slightly stoned. "Sam. Richard. Sorry if I made a mess of the departure, I wasn't really thinking straight."

"Yes. Well," Woolsey said, flustered and at a loss for words. "They left on schedule, although many of them seemed a bit... startled. We also had to rather forcefully encourage the reporters to go."

"They were like sharks smelling blood in the water," Carter said. She had a smile, but it quickly went away as she continued, "I bet we'll be getting orders to investigate this incident with the next databurst, so we're going to have to act fast and have an explanation ready to dispatch before then. Now, Jennifer's investigating the mind-altering alien substance Lorne was exposed to, which gives him an alibi. The way I see it, _clearly_ John was just humoring him to make sure no one got hurt. Right, John." Carter grinned at them and winked.

John tilted his head to the side. "I suppose that would be a logical explanation, but what about the ring?"

"Um." Carter pursed her lips. "It's an heirloom, right? He's carrying it for good luck. Lorne, make sure you tell Pierson that when she manages to hunt you down, people will love that."

"Sounds good," Evan said, "although that runs into the problem of how to hide the wedding. Speaking of which, John, I'm thinking we can have Teyla officiate, Radek will be my best man, and yours can be McKay."

"I don't know if Ronon will go for that, but I suppose the two of them can fight it out or something."

Woolsey coughed into his fist. "Ahem. Wedding?"

"We did just get engaged," John reminded him. "Usually a wedding follows that."

"A real wedding this time," Evan said, pointing an accusatory finger at John. "Not a fake alien one, and especially one that doesn't involve both our teams. Again."

"Yeah, yeah." John waved his hand. "I bet Teyla can annul all those other weird rituals at the same time or something."

"Oh, boy," Carter muttered under her breath.

"Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said. "I can understand why you might be a bit distracted, so perhaps I should remind you how this works. You tell me some polite fiction to justify your insane actions, I pretend not to realize that you're lying to me, and then everything gets sorted out in a way that technically doesn't violate any rules. We've done this dozens of times."

"Oh, no," Evan said. "He's not wiggling out of this. I've had this planned for a while now, and he's going through with it even if I have to get Ronon to stun him and carry him to the altar for me."

Woolsey sighed and covered his face with his hand. "You know, I think it would be best to have this conversation once everyone involved is completely sober. Samantha, if you would be so kind as to try to talk some sense into them, I would appreciate it."

"Sure thing."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be in my office not hearing things I shouldn't be hearing," Woolsey said before stalking off.

Carter watched him go and shook her head. "You're not going to play along, are you?"

"Nope," John said.

"And you realize they're going to toss you both out, right? There were enough reporters there that you'll be on every news channel on the planet. There is no way the SGC can't act on it without some kind of extenuating circumstance."

"I know, ma'am," Evan said. "Thanks anyways, though."

"Just checking." Carter leaned against the next bed over. "So -- how long?"

"It's been, uh..." John trailed off and glanced sideways.

Evan gave him a moment to figure it out, then rolled his eyes and supplied, "Two and a half years, more or less. Since when we were on Earth while the Ancients were here."

Carter's eyes lit up. "Oooh. That explains a few comments Daniel made. Damn, I must have been blind."

John shrugged. "We did our best to hide it."

"I mean, honestly, I though you... you and..." Sam started to chuckle uncontrollably, before managing to bite out, "You and McKay."

John's expression grew annoyed. "We're not sleeping together. We're just friends."

"Except when you do sleep together," Evan pointed out.

"Don't you even start."

"Or when we do, I should say," Evan went on. He grinned salaciously at Carter. "Let me tell you, when McKay sets his mind to something other than physics, he can be pretty damned awesome at other things. And his hands -- well, I don't know where to start."

"Evan, please stop talking now," John groaned.

"You know, maybe I should just let you to go back to your quarters and, ah, talk," Carter said, her face growing pink. Then, curious and the slightest bit regretful, she asked, "If you don't mind me asking, though -- do you think it's worth it?"

They looked at each other, and together said, "Absolutely."

 

**\--- 10.2 ---**   
_(June 4, 2010)_

For a few days, Sam had thought she and Woolsey had the situation under control. Only hours after the VIPs had departed Earth had dialed in and transmitted a databurst. It contained instructions placing her in command of the military and ordering Sheppard and Lorne to return to Earth for a board of inquiry. For obvious reason everyone in the city had found out within minutes. So far things had been stress-inducing, but not disastrous. McKay she had been prepared to deal with, but thus far he had been slightly less loud than she had anticipated and he had yet to threaten to resign. The rest of the scientists and the medical staff were obviously unhappy with the situation, Captain Barnes and First Sergeant Stackhouse had both quietly informed her that the men were angry and feeling betrayed - not by Sheppard, but by the SGC - and Teyla had already registered a formal protest as her people's representative in Atlantis.

All of that Sam had expected and braced herself for, but what hurt more was the increasing isolation she felt. More than once she had come across groups in the common areas and the mess talking, only for them to suddenly shut up before either beginning to furtively whisper to each other or loudly and pointedly changing the subject. It wasn't that they were excluding her or being unfriendly, and in fact many people had made sure to tell her they didn't blame her personally, but like Woolsey she was ultimately there as a representative of the SGC. She just hoped that they'd eventually forgive her for her part in things.

Still, she hadn't thought things could get worse, which was possibly her biggest mistake. Definitely her biggest mistake, she concluded as she walked into the control room the morning of the scheduled Earth dial-out. She had arrived in the control room early, intending to make sure things went smoothly, and quickly found that she had been right to do so.

"Chuck," she asked slowly, looking down from the balcony at the gateroom floor. "What's going on?"

From behind her the technician said, "Don't look at me, I only just got here myself."

Sam didn't believe that for a second, because nothing happened in the control room without him knowing - certainly nothing like this. There was a crowd of at least three dozen people assembled on the gateroom floor. They were all civilians, and at a glance they seemed to be pretty evenly spread across the different departments and nationalities. Some were standing, some were sitting, a few were eating breakfast, but all of them appeared to have at least one hand-made sign near them. To add insult to injury, they had somehow managed to haul one of the large displays directly in front of the gate and hooked up several game systems, and even as she watched a nurse and an archaeologist were busy playing _Dance Dance Revolution_.

It took them a few moments to notice her, but as soon as they did they all picked up their signs. While the artistic abilities of their makers varied wildly from "scribbled block letters" to "carefully drawn rainbows, flowers, and puddle jumpers", most of them had more or less the same general message: DOWN WITH BIGOTRY! FREE LOVE! ATLANTIS FOR ATLANTIS! SHEP IS OUR HERO! Then the chants started.

_"Who do we want? Sheppard and Lorne! Where do we want them? Here!"_

Sam spotted Doctor Parrish making his way through the crowd and she met him at the top of the stairs. "Dr. Parrish, what's going on here?"

"It's a protest." He dug into one of his pockets and pulled out several folded sheets of paper, which he handed to Sam. "This is a petition against the removal of Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Lorne, signed by everyone in the civilian portion of the expedition."

"A protest," Sam repeated in a dubious tone. She unfolded the paper and quickly skimmed over the contents, spotting McKay's signature at the top of a long list of names, followed by Jennifer Keller's.

"Yep," he said with a broad grin. "It's also a sit-in and gate blockade, too. Oh, and a strike, but this part here's mostly the protest."

Sam had a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach as she processed that statement. "A strike? You can't go on strike."

Parrish shrugged. "Well, we have."

"Who's we?"

"Everyone. Well, everyone except the military, obviously, but other than essential maintenance and the medical duty staff the entire civilian contingent isn't doing any work until the situation is resolved."

"I... you..." Sam was rendered speechless by the shear audacity of the idea. The situation was extraordinarily insane even by Atlantis standards. Knowing the answer already, she asked, "I don't suppose ordering you to move would do any good?"

"Nope. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back down there. I'm up next for the game." With that, he turned and loped back down the stairs.

As Sam watched him go, she wondered if she was starting to slip, having failed to even consider something like this. To be fair, most military officers never had to deal with fully two-thirds of their base's residents deciding to _strike_, of all things, so maybe she shouldn't be blaming herself for not seeing it coming. On the other hand, she should have realized that the civilians wouldn't see things as being a simple matter of regulations and would have their own unique ways of expressing their displeasure. The speed with which they'd put it together was astonishing, which suggested a considerable amount of planning on their part. Now that she thought about it, it was entirely likely they'd had something like this planned ever since the first rumors of the ZPM withdraw had started, and the suspicious quiet of the last few days had been the scientists' equivalent of laying in wait to spring a trap. If so, it was definitely a very effective trap.

Sam sighed and returned to the main control console, where Chuck was looking on with amusement. She gave him a suspicious look, glanced between him and where Parrish was standing now a few times, and considered asking him again if he really didn't have any idea that this had been coming. Not being one for completely useless gestures, she instead ordered, "Chuck, get Mr. Woolsey up here."

"Are you sure, ma'am? I mean, he really doesn't like having his morning routine interrupted. He gets a bit cranky."

Sam closed her eyes. "Fine. I'll wait for him in my office. His office. Just tell him I'm waiting for him." She started to turn, then said, "And you may as well tell Sheppard and Lorne they're not leaving today, assuming they don't already know."

To a background chorus of, _"Hell, no, they won't go!"_, Sam retired to the office to start figuring how to salvage the situation. It only took a few radio calls to confirm that the strike was indeed city-wide, with most of the scientists gathered in the recreational areas. By all appearances, the only people who were working were food services, the infirmary emergency team, and a few people monitoring key systems. Even McKay wasn't in his lab, although apparently he was down in the hangar with Zelenka and a few other engineers whose idea of 'day off' apparently meant 'putting the final touches on our hobbyist starship.' The military staff, of course, was still operating as usual, although Sam suspected that most of those who were off-duty could be found with the civilians in the rec rooms even if they weren't officially joining the protests. Sam decided against trying to stop that, because the last thing she needed were a bunch of sullen and bored marines. That was just a recipe for disaster. The real wildcard of the situation was Woolsey, of course. Sam couldn't imagine he'd react well. He had stretched regulations from time to time over the course of his tenure, but afterwards he had always been careful to document the reasons for the exceptions he made and to change the rules when they failed to adequately match practical reality. This was an entirely different matter entirely, however, and Sam suspected he'd see this all as a direct affront to his leadership of the base.

Sam settled into one of the spare chairs and pulled out her PDA in the hopes of getting something useful done while she waited. About an hour later, Woolsey arrived, sneaking in through the back door. He looked startled to see her there, which probably meant that Chuck had suddenly started to become forgetful and failed to inform him she was there.

"Colonel Carter! I hope you haven't been waiting long. Breakfast took longer than expected, for some reason the cooks seemed... they seemed a bit... what's going on out there?"

Sam looked over her shoulder through the window. At some point, even more game consoles and screens had been hauled up, while the act of actually waving signs about and chanting had been delegated to a trio of MALPs with signs attached to their claws and small speakers plugged into them. The gate was quite thoroughly blocked by the mess of equipment, stands, boxes, and wiring. Sam stood, shrugged, and said, "It's a strike."

Woolsey came over to stand next to her and stared down in shock. "A strike? Who's on strike?"

"The civilians, Richard. All of them."

"They can't strike!"

Sam forced down a sigh as she realized just how tiring explaining this was probably going to get. "That's what I said, but apparently they disagree."

"That's insane!"

"That's Atlantis for you." Sam pointed at the gate, or rather what portion of it that they could see. "You'll notice they've made the gate impassable, and I'm sure you can guess why."

His eyes narrowed. "So that we can't send Colonel Sheppard through. I should have known he'd try something like this."

"Actually, as far as I can tell this is a purely civilian operation," Sam replied, handing over the petition. Woolsey angrily snatched it from her hands and began to read it.

"This entire thing is absurd. I have no more desire to see them leave than anyone else, but there are proper channels for making these sort of protests. If they think I'm going to let this stop a legitimate investigation, they're wrong. I want that equipment moved, now."

Sam looked at him in disbelief. "How do you propose to do that?"

"I'm sure the military isn't participating," Woolsey said. "Have a few soldiers go down there and clear a hole."

"That won't work. The civilians won't let them through. Unless you're suggesting I have the marines remove them by force, I don't see what I can do."

Woolsey looked like he'd bitten into a lemon, but he nodded. "If that's what you need to do to deal with this, this mutiny, then I want you do to it. I doubt it would take much effort to get them to leave, just aim a few stunners at them to get the point across and physically carry away any stragglers."

Sam shook her head angrily and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, there's no way I'm ordering the men to go up against our own people. It would completely tear the expedition apart, and I'm not doing anything of the sort without a direct order from General O'Neill or the president. If you or the IOA have a problem with that, tough."

"Fine. Then we'll contact Earth and get you those orders."

"All right." Sam didn't think it'd be nearly that easy, but she led the way out into the control room. "Chuck, raise the shield and dial Earth."

"Ma'am?" He cupped his hand over his ear. "Sorry, couldn't quite hear that."

The noise from the floor wasn't that loud, but she raised her voice anyways. "I said, raise the shield and dial Earth!"

"Oh. You do know it'd be a bit difficult to get anyone through, right?"

"I know that. Just do it."

Chuck shrugged and began dialing, but he hit the wrong key for the sixth symbol and the gate died with a whir. Cheerfully, he said, "Whoops. Curse my clumsy Canadian fingers. Sometimes I think all that horseback riding damaged my nerves somehow."

"You've never been on a horse in your life!" Sam protested.

"Don't be silly, ma'am. How else would we Mounties get around? We don't even have cars yet." It took him two more tries, but finally the gate connected and the kawhoosh splashed across the shield. For their part, the protesters and gamers below didn't so much as flinch. A few seconds later a video link with the SGC was established and put on the main screen.

"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis," Sam said. "We have a situation. Is General O'Neill available?"

"Just a second, ma'am," Walter replied. In the background, Sam saw Jack coming down the stairs. She was not surprised under the circumstances, and was glad that she could deal with him instead of Landry. Somehow she suspected that Landry would take things even worse than Woolsey had once he heard about the situation.

Jack reached the camera and crossed his arms. "Carter. What's up?"

Sam glanced at Woolsey, but he was silently fuming. "Sir, we've got a bit of a problem here. I don't think we're going to be sending Sheppard and Lorne through to you anytime soon."

"Let me guess -- Sheppard and his team disappeared through the gate," Jack said peevishly. "Again."

"Actually, no," Sam replied. Surprisingly, John had promised to do nothing of the sort, and the last she had heard after being told their dial-out was canceled he and Lorne had returned to Lorne's quarters to... well, she didn't want to think too hard about what they were doing while talking with a general who might wonder why she was blushing. Especially not while talking with Jack, who would ask about it. "It's a bit more complicated then that."

"Which means?"

"The civilians are on strike," she said, and to make the point clear she made a few keystrokes to send them footage from the gateroom surveillance cameras.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack muttered. "Of course they are.

Sam was thankful that he hadn't even tried to pretend it wasn't happening. "They've blocked physical access to the gate, so I don't think we're getting anyone in or out until this is resolved."

Woolsey chose that moment to cut in. "It could be resolved quickly if you would instruct Colonel Carter to simply have the marines move the civilians aside. Surely it could be done without hurting anyone."

"And as I already told you, that's just a sure-fire way to turn this into a complete catastrophe," Sam retorted.

Jack leaned closer to the camera with a scowl. "You're right about that, Carter. Do your best to keep the situation from escalating and try to figure out what they want."

"They want Sheppard and Lorne to remain here, sir. If we could get a guarantee that they won't be removed from the city, even without command, I think we can keep this under control."

Jack snorted, and under his breath muttered, "I knew this was going to bite me in the ass." Louder, he went on, "I'll see what I can do. In the mean time, try your best and don't do anything stupid. SGC, out. Walter, tell Hank I need to use his phone to -"

The transmission cut off and Sam signaled for Chuck to kill the gate.

"Well. Looks like we'll do this your way," Woolsey said, actually looking a bit relieved. "Given that you're the closest thing to a neutral party here, perhaps you should speak with the ringleaders and see if they'll at least resume work when not... protesting. With any luck we can get this all sorted out before the IOA or anyone else needs to get involved."

"I hope so." The president was a reasonable man, and with any luck he would steamroll past any opposition from the Pentagon or elsewhere and find a way to guarantee Sheppard and Lorne would get honorable discharges that would allow them to stay. Otherwise, while those on Earth might not realize it yet, Sam knew that the scientists definitely had the fortitude and dedication to make this a very long and very ugly affair. The only bright point was that the press had no idea anything was happening yet, but the longer things dragged on the more likely it was they would realize that the duo should have been returned to Earth by now. Even worse was the possibility of the civilians managing to sneak a databurst out to friends. If that happened, it would probably be the biggest PR disaster and media feeding frenzy since disclosure.

 

**\--- 10.3 ---**   
_(June 6, 2010)_

Jennifer paced back and forth in the infirmary, going over her checklist a fourth time that night. Everything seemed to be in place, just like it had for the last few days, but tomorrow was The Day, capital letters and all, and she had to be sure everything was ready. There wasn't supposed to be anyone hurt, not worse than maybe a stunner hangover or two, but when had anything every gone as planned in this galaxy?

"Hey," someone said behind her, and Jennifer nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around to see Ronon leaning against the door frame and put her hand over her pounding heart.

"Hey there," she managed to say after a few seconds. "What's up?"

"Nothin' much. You busy?"

"Yeah, I'm," Jennifer started, then stopped. She shrugged, spread her hands, and admitted, "Actually, not really. I was just double-checking everything for tomorrow, again."

"Worried?"

"Aren't you? I mean, this is pretty big, and it's not like we're gonna be fighting Wraith this time."

"Naw. Sheppard's got a plan; he'll get us through fine."

"That doesn't mean no one's going to get hurt."

"And you'll fix them."

"I wish I was as confident as you." Jennifer felt a smile creep onto her face. "Did you need something?"

Ronon jerked his thumb towards the hall. "Want to get dinner?"

She hesitated, then set her list aside. "That'd be great."

**=====**

The door chimed, and Teyla smiled to herself. She had been expecting a visitor about that time and had just taken her evening tea off the heating element to let it cool. She finished setting out a pair of cups and went to the door, opening it to find Rodney.

"Good evening, Rodney."

Rodney gave her a little wave and fidgeted nervously, glancing up and down the hall several times. "Hey. I just thought I'd drop by, see what you were up to."

"I was about to have some tea. Would you care to join me?"

"Oh, sure, thanks."

Rodney bustled inside and sat down at the table. Teyla brought over the kettle and cups, along with a plate of mint cookies the mess made that she had found went well with the tea. As she poured them each a cup, she commented, "I am surprised to see you here, Rodney. I had assumed you would be busy."

"I figured I should do a few rounds, make sure everyone was ready for the big day tomorrow."

"That is very kind of you." Teyla sat down across from him and sipped of her tea. "Your work in the lab is done, then?"

"Not quite, but it never is, and Zelenka threw me out because my pacing and muttering was 'distracting' him." Rodney rolled his eyes and dismissed the complaint with a waggle of his hand. "But, since all the preparations are finished and I could tell he was nervous, I thought I'd take it easy on him and go for a walk."

Rodney himself was tense and practically shaking, but Teyla refrained from pointing that out. "I'm sure it will do you well also. You should relax and rest while you have a chance. You may not have another for some time."

"You're right, of course, but when aren't you?" Rodney shrugged. "Anyways, I went to see if Sheppard was doing anything, but apparently he's got something planned with Lorne. He said he'd be cool with hanging out anyways, but I decided not to."

"I see," was Teyla's only comment. She had been aware of what John had been planning for this night for some time, but was also sure he would have set it aside in an instant if Rodney truly needed his companionship.

"Not that I have anything against hanging out with those two. Lorne's a pretty nice guy, when you get right down to it. I mean, he puts up with me, doesn't he? So I could have, but I didn't because I'm not quite that clueless. They deserve a bit of time alone. So here I am instead." Rodney stopped, his eyes bugged out slightly, and he hurried to add, "Not that you're my second choice or something."

"Rodney," Teyla said, "I know what you mean. That was quite considerate of you."

"Me? Considerate? That'd be the day." Teyla suppressed a sigh at that remark, as she often did when Rodney said such things about himself. "No, that was just a tiny bit of common decency. It's not like Sheppard belongs to me or something. Getting married isn't going to make him forget I'm his best friend, right? Of course not. It's just a little ceremony, not nearly as life-altering as some sappy morons would tell you. Nothing's going to change."

Rodney gulped down most of his tea and Teyla silently refilled it in silence, letting Rodney continue to vent.

"It's been, what, two, three years now? If something was going to really be different it would already be different. Sure, they're probably going to move in together or something, and they won't have to hide anymore, which will probably mean they'll spend even more time outside of work with each other and thus John will have proportionately less time with me, and since they'll be married they probably won't be having me around for, well, you know anymore...." Rodney seemed to deflate and slumped backwards. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'll be left alone, just like every other time one of my friends has fallen in love. I'm just surprised it's taken this long this time."

"Rodney!" Teyla said sharply, causing him to jerk his head up. "You are a bright man, but sometimes I despair at your inability to judge how others feel about you. Do you truly think that John Sheppard cares so little for you? Has he ever given you reason to think that?"

"Well, no. He was a bit pissed after Doranda, but even then it was more sulking than anything else."

"Surely you must also admit that he is close to Ronon and me, and that his relationships with us do not threaten his with you?"

"No, but that's different, we're," Rodney waved his hands vaguely, "you know, a team."

"And yet you deny that he could be part of a different sort of team and still value you as much. Is that logical?" Hesitantly, Rodney shook his head, and Teyla finished, "You are one of the few people John is close to, Rodney, and I know he holds you dearer than even Evan. You have nothing to fear from what is coming. Things may change, yes, but he will not leave you alone."

"I... okay, I guess I might be a bit more pessimistic than I need to be."

"If you are truly so concerned, then perhaps you should discuss your feelings with John," Teyla suggested.

Rodney looked utterly aghast at the idea. "Discuss my _feelings_? With _Sheppard_?"

They looked at each other for a moment, before even Teyla could not maintain her composure and had to laugh aloud. "I can see the flaw in that idea, so perhaps you should talk with Evan instead. I am sure he would listen."

Grudgingly, Rodney said, "I'll think about it."

That was all Teyla could hope for, at least for a time. Perhaps she could arrange for it to happen that Evan would broach the subject instead, with both men, as he was far more reasonable about such things than either of them would ever be. For now, though, she simply asked, "In any case, there will be time enough for that once the coming fight is over. How is your work progressing?"

"Oh, it's going great, and it's only going to get better. There's all sorts of research we haven't been able to do because of IOA regulations, and there's also the cruiser project that we've got going...." As Rodney babbled on, Teyla was happy to note that he had finally begun to relax. There was little else that she herself could do, not until things were in motion, but that was of no matter. She could still comfort her friends, and that was of far greater assistance than any purely physical aid she could supply.

 

**=====**

"Okay, John, I give in," Evan said, as they rounded yet another corner and started down yet another corridor. "Why are you dragging me way out here?"

"Like I said, I've got something to show you," John said, grinning over his shoulder. "What, are you the only one allowed to surprise people?"

"No, but I don't make people walk halfway across the city to do it?" Evan watched suspiciously as John hesitated at the next intersection. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Sure I do," John said. He sounded confident, but then he almost always did and it was entirely possible that they were never going to find their way back to civilization. A short time later they did reach a nondescript door and John led Evan inside. "Here we go."

Evan looked around the room, but there didn't seem to be anything particularly interesting, just some consoles and a series of hatches set the walls. "This is, uh, nice?"

John turned to Evan, his hands planted on his hips. "So, um. I've been thinking for a while, about what might be next for you and me. Relationship-wise, that is. Obviously you've been thinking about it too, what with the proposal and all, which makes me pretty happy because it means we're on the same page. Right?"

Evan cautiously nodded. "Right."

"See, few months ago I was talking with the computer, about long-term plans for after secession, how we'd expand the population, genetics, families, that sort of thing, and it sent me down to this room to show me what's here."

John paused expectantly, and Evan said, "Which is?"

"These." John waved his hand over one of the hatches. It opened up and a second later a platform extended out, on top of which was a stubby cylindrical canister of some sort. It was about four feet long and two in diameter, with a rounded top and a panel buttons and indicators on one side. Evan studied it for a minute, but eventually shook his head. Before he could ask what it was, John went on, "The Ancients were a bit weird about physical inconveniences, physical anything really, and this is one of the things they came up with to get around them. It's called a uterine replicator. An artificial womb."

"Oh," was all Evan could say.

"I read up on them in the database, and it says they work for men, too. All we'd have to do was touch one of those machines over there to get a DNA sample and wait nine months, and the system would take care of the rest. I know you've spent a lot of time with Teyla and Torren, and I know you really enjoyed being around your sister's kids, so... so I guess what I'm trying to ask is, once we've got things settled, do you want to have a kid?"

"Fuck," Evan said. He'd never expected something like this to come up, although he really should have, given the kind of biotechnology the Ancients had possessed. He looked at John with wide eyes. "Are you serious? I mean, sure, I'd like to, but you're not just asking because it'd make me happy, right?"

John shrugged. "Hey, I like kids too, and it's not like I don't know what I'd be getting into. I'm willing to try if you are. Hopefully I won't fuck up too badly."

"Then the answer's yes," Evan said, before squeezing John into a tight hug and kissing him. "And don't worry, you'll make a great dad."

"Really? 'Cause I have to admit, while I like the idea it still terrifies me."

"It should, but that doesn't change what I said," Evan told him, and to stop any further protests he kissed him.


	12. Impact

**\--- 11.1 ---**   
_(June 7, 2010)_

Sam was sitting in the conference room on Day Four of the Great Atlantean Labor Dispute, making sure she had all her paperwork in line for an upcoming negotiating session. Outside, the gateroom was quiet, as the only ones present were McKay, Chuck, and a few guards. Although the obstructions around the gate itself were still in place, the strikers had relocated themselves elsewhere in a show of good faith. They could return in a moment's notice, of course, if anyone tried to open the gate up. Thankfully, the SGC had dialed in during the morning and relayed a message tentatively agreeing to allow Sheppard and Lorne to join the expedition as civilians. Sam was going to meet with McKay, Keller, and Parrish in the afternoon to hammer out the exact details, and with luck that would be the end of things. There might be -- no, almost certainly would be repercussions at a later date, but Sam had to agree with a statement McKay had made: "They can't screw us worse than they're already planning to."

The sound of footsteps drew her attention to the open doors, and Sam saw Lorne poke his head inside. "Hey Sam," he said, "How's it going?"

"About as well as you'd expect," she replied. "I think we'll finally get back to work this afternoon. Hopefully."

He smiled and stepped inside. "I don't think there'll be any more problems, if the rumors I've heard are true, and if there are I'll lean on the other guys to accept what we've got already."

"Thanks," Sam replied with a heartfelt smile of her own. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab some lunch with me and John. Rumor has it there's going to be brownies, and I figured you'd want some real food before listening to McKay rant later."

"Sounds great. Let me just finish up this memo, it should only take a minute or two."

"Um. Sure, that'll work."

Sam hurried to finish the last few paragraphs of the document, a brief statement on the SGC's official position on the dispute. While she did, Lorne leaned against one of the door panels. He kept fidgeting and checking his watch, and after the fourth time he did Sam looked at him curiously and asked, "Are you in a hurry or something?"

"No, no," Lorne said, quickly shaking his head. "I just don't want to get there and find everything's cold or gone."

"They only just started serving lunch an hour ago," Sam said with a frown. "I'm sure there's still going to be plenty in five minutes."

"Of course. There's plenty of time." Lorne gave her a weak smile. Then, without warning, the lights all went out.

"What the hell?" Sam said, looking up. The main lights out in the gateroom had gone off as well, leaving everything illuminated only by sunlight and the emergency lights. "Did we loose power or something?"

"I bet McKay just hit the wrong button or something," Lorne said. "I think he was doing diagnostics."

"No, that shouldn't cause a blackout," Sam said, getting to her feet. "We better check it out."

Lorne closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah. Great. Wonderful timing, as usual. Well, nothing else for it, I suppose."

"Evan, what are you talking about?" Sam asked. Her eyes widened as he reached under the back of his jacket and produced a compact pistol, which he aimed at her. Sam instinctively began backing away and she reached for her radio, but a small shake of Lorne's head stopped her. She eyed his weapon and calmly asked, "Is that a phaser?"

"Yes, and before you ask, it does work. I suppose that's the downside of deniable weapons, no one believes they're real." His tone was wry as he said in, and apologetic as he went on, "I need your radio, please."

Sam held up her hands, trying to think of what was happening. It didn't seem possible that an alien force had managed to take over or replace Lorne, Sheppard, and who knows how many others without them having left the city, but the most likely alternative was that it really was them and that didn't make much more sense. "Listen. Colonel. I'm sure that whatever is wrong, this isn't going to help. How about you put away the weapon so we can talk things through."

"I really wish that was possible, ma'am, but that will have to wait." Lorne looked unhappy as he said it, but also determined, and he didn't break eye contact with her as he firmly repeated, "Your radio, ma'am. Now. Please don't make me stun you."

"All right," Sam answered. She slowly pulled her ear piece off and held it out. Lorne reached for it with his left hand, subtly relaxing just a little as she dropped it into his palm. The relaxation was short-lived, because a moment later Sam grabbed his wrist and jerked as hard as she could, twisting her body sideways not only to get clear of his line of fire but also to slam her elbow into his face. Lorne yelped in pain and attempted to back off, but she rabbit-punched him and he bent over with a grunt. He tried to raise his phaser but a quick kick sent it flying into the wall, and another one dropped him to the floor.

Sam bent over to pick up the weapon and then her radio, training the former on Lorne and putting the latter back into place. "Stay there or I'll shoot," she told him.

"It won't do you any good," Lorne wheezed. He shoved himself back against the wall and looked up at her. "You need the gene to fire it."

Sam pulled the trigger anyways, but sure enough nothing happened. "Fuck," she said, and then hurriedly she backed out of the conference room, not turning her back on him until she was nearing the steps down. Then she looked over to the control room and called out, "I need a little help over here!"

In the dim light, she could just see Rodney and Chuck look at her, eyes wide, and then at each other. Immediately she realized that if Lorne and Sheppard were up to something, Rodney was bound to be involved, and possibly others as well. She all but dove down the main stairs, taking them three at a time in her haste, and from the corner of her eye she saw Chuck get up from his chair and draw a weapon. She just barely managed to get out of his line of sight before the air was split by a high-pitched whine and a blue beam slashed just inches behind her. One of the guards at the lower entrance tried to get in her way but she dropped him with a quick blow to his jaw.

She didn't stop running until she was well out of sight of the control room, and even then she slowed only a little. As she jogged along, planning to head for the armory, she tapped her radio and toggled the all-hands frequency.

"This is Colonel Carter. We have a security breach and a possible foothold situation. Colonels Sheppard and Lorne and their teams are involved," she said. "Security teams should secure all critical areas immediately, and I need backup in the control tower."

Sam came around the next bend in the corridor and literally plowed into a marine coming the other way. The two of them went down hard, nearly taking one of the marine's teammates with them. It took a second for Sam to regain her bearings and look up, to find Sergeant Stackhouse looking back with concerned eyes.

"You all right ma'am?" he said as he offered her a hand up.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied. The marine she'd knocked down climbed to his feet behind her. "Did you hear my message?"

"Yes, ma'am. We were just headed your way."

"Good, I was afraid the comms might have been compromised," Sam said. She glanced back the way she'd come, but there was no sign of pursuit. "Okay, I don't know exactly what the situation is, but we need to secure the control room before they can initiate a lockdown or worse. Do you guys have stunners?"

"Yes, ma'am, we do," Stackhouse said.

Sam had a few seconds to feel relieved that they wouldn't have to fire on their own people with standard firearms, but that relief was short-lived. She could feel someone coming up close behind her, too close, but before she could turn calloused hands grabbed her arms from either side and a moment later a pair of handcuffs snicked shut around her wrists.

Sam stared incredulously at Stackhouse. "You too, huh?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Stackhouse said. There was something in his eyes and his frown, some small, genuine trace of remorse, that told her that this wasn't an alien impostor or mind-control victim she was dealing with. "If you'd come with us, ma'am, we've been ordered to return you to the control room."

Sam sighed, but she knew she wouldn't be able to escape four armed marines, not while handcuffed. She nodded in acquiescence and allowed them to escort her back to the control room. When they arrived, Lorne was standing behind McKay with his arms crossed. His nose was bright red and he already had a huge bruise forming the left side of his face. Despite that, he flashed her a brilliant grin.

"Nice to see you again this soon, Colonel," he said. "Sorry to cut your daring escape so short, but we're on a bit of a schedule here."

"Really." Deciding to try reason again, she said, "You have to know there's no way you're going to get away with this. The SGC will come after you."

"I'm sure they will," Lorne replied, still grinning.

"You'll never be able to go home to Earth again, not outside a cell at least."

"Earth's not home, Sam. Atlantis is."

Giving him up as a lost cause, Sam looked down at McKay instead. He was furiously typing on the keyboard in front of him, and a city schematic was displayed on the screen.

"Rodney," she began, but he held up his hand in her direction without even looking up.

"Don't even start," Rodney said. "I'm too busy to argue about legal and moral issues right now. Zelenka, are you ready to power back up?"

Sam could just barely hear the Czech reply, _"Whenever you are,"_ over Rodney's radio.

"Sheppard, what about you?"

_"Same here."_

"Excellent." Now Rodney looked up at Sam. "Prepare to see something that is, if I may say so, completely brilliant. Initiating system restart in three... two... one... go!"

Rodney lightly tapped the ENTER key on the laptop.

**\--- 11.2 ---**

John sat silently in the darkness of the chair room, waiting for the word to go. The lights had gone out just minutes before, a few minutes ahead of schedule, but there had been a bit of give and take anticipated with the time line and so that didn't worried him. Intellectually, he knew that their chances of success were high. Everyone was in position, including trustworthy troops guarding all the key parts of the city, no one loyal to Earth had the slightest clue anything was going on thanks to Chuck's distraction, and they'd even managed to have a dress rehearsal under the guise of the combat drill. Things couldn't have been better prepared, and he was needed where he was to take advantage of the brief vulnerabilities presented by a full system restart.

Still, he didn't like at all that his main role was going to be sitting there in the chair, instead of out in the city with his team, Evan, and all the others. He had a brief moment of panic when Evan reported that Carter had managed to get away from him, because he knew how much trouble a member of SG-1 could cause, but thankfully Stacks managed to catch her a few minutes later. Then Rodney finally radioed in, and John took a deep breath and waited.

_"Initiating system restart in three... two... one... go!"_

The power came back on and a split second later the chair initialized, tilted back, and John was swept away by the mental interface. It was if raw electricity arced through every nerve in his body, curling up along his spine into his brain where it crackled and buzzed with raw potential. A few seconds later the command interface popped into view within his head.

**chair@atlantis:~$** System recognizes Citizen John.Sheppard / root access granted / Ave Imperator.  
**chair@atlantis:~$** Primary systems 85.3% optimal. Potentia alpha 99.6%, beta N/A, gamma N/A. Life support 100%, operating on external atmosphere &amp; water supply. Sensors active. Primary shield on warm standby. Primary weapons on standby, drone munitions 99.7%

He'd done this a hundred times before, but this time there was another presence waiting for him. He took a deep breath, and sent it a thought.

**root@atlantis:~$** That you, Mike?  
**intellect@atlantis:~$** Hello, John. Ready to go to work?  
**root@atlantis:~$** As ready as I'm going to get, I think.  
**intellect@atlantis:~$** All right, then. Let's dance.

And dance they did. John and Mike swept through the all the thousands of systems the city possessed, nimbly spinning from one to the next as they tore down the entire security system and rebuilt it from the ground level, and in the process resetting user permissions so that only those loyal to Atlantis were recognized as having command authority. They started with Power, then Computing, Life Support, External and Internal Defense, and from there into the myriad less critical systems like Navigation, Propulsion, and Manufacturing. As they went each system began to hum in a new key until the entire city was buzzing in perfect harmony. Lastly they brushed past the firewalls protecting all the Earth-built computers to take control of those as well, until only personal laptops were left untouched.

"Sheppard? Sheppard, are you there?"

John started as he heard Rodney's worried voice over the radio, his eyes opening wide as he sat up. There was a cold sweat on his brow and he realized that he'd been buried inside the computer for nearly thirty minutes.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said after taking a moment to pull himself together.

"Oh good, "Rodney said with obvious relief. "I was worried you'd done something wrong. Is everything finished?"

"I think so. You and Zelenka should be good to go."

A few seconds later, it was Evan on the radio. "Sir, if you're sure you're done, Teyla needs you on the southeast pier. We've got a group of marines holed up out there; she thinks you might be able to convince them to give up."

"Right. I'm on my way." John climbed out the chair and it turned off with a mournful hum, like it was sad to see him leave. He gave the headrest a last pat before taking off for the nearest transporter.

 

**\--- 11.2 ---**

It took John only a few minutes to reach the pier, and as he went Evan relayed status reports from their teams around the city. As soon as the security systems had come back up the entire city was put into lockdown, trapping the few people who'd had time to react to Carter's unplanned broadcast. Luckily, none of them had been able to get anywhere important, as they'd been careful to make sure most of those on duty were browncoats. There had been a few scuffles here and there, but since only their forces had been able to move freely the loyalists had quickly been overpowered. Now, the ZPM room, the jumper bays, the main armory, and the control rooms were all secure.

Unfortunately, the backup armory on the southeast pier had also been secured, but by the wrong people. It was located deep inside one of the buildings near the edge of the city, at the end of a short hall that branched off the main thoroughfare. Teyla, Ronon, and Sergeant Ortega were already waiting at the intersection. A second marine was unconscious on the ground and being tended to by Keller.

"What's the situation?" John asked. He peeked around the corner and saw that the blast door was wedged open by a chair, but because of the angle of the door and hallway he couldn't actually see inside.

"It appears that Lieutenant Thornton and Corporals Palmer, White, and Perkins were out this way on a morning run," Teyla said. "They managed to get inside just before we arrived."

"I'm guessing they're armed?" John said, glancing over at the downed marine.

"They opened fire with stunners as soon as they saw Ronon. As you can see, they have cover and a clear shot at anyone trying to approach."

"Christ. This is the last thing we need right now." There were more than just stunners inside the armory: P-90s, grenades, C-4, even a couple of MANPADs. Worse yet, not a single one of them was a day over twenty-four, and while John knew they were all skilled, if horribly inexperienced, that only made things worse. God only knew the sort of crazy-assed stunt he'd have tried at their age in a situation like this.

"Hey Thornton! It's Colonel Sheppard. What are you doing in there?"

"Uh. Well, we were arming ourselves, although mostly we're hiding right now," came a hesitant answer.

"I kinda figured that. How about you come on out of there?"

"I don't think we should do that, sir."

"Why the hell not?"

"Colonel Carter's message made it sound like you'd been taken over by an alien or something. She said there was a foothold situation."

"There are no aliens, Thornton. It's just me, Teyla, and Ronon out here."

"That's not every reassuring, sir."

John considered what Ronon must seem like to them and winced. "I suppose I get that. Look, this is just a big misunderstanding. We're all friends here, so why don't you put down your guns and let us come in?"

"Not going to happen, sir. Not until Colonel Carter gives us the all-clear."

"I... hold that thought." John looked at Ronon. "Go get Carter." As Ronon took off, John turned to Keller. "Doc, you may need a few more stretchers down here."

Keller glared up at him. "You think so? They're already on their way."

John held up his hands in surrender. As they waited for Ronon to return, John and Teyla discussed options for getting into the armory. They started with the unpleasant and got worse from there. They could try charging in and overwhelming them with bodies, but there was the possibility they'd switch to conventional weapons and someone could get shot. It would be easy to toss a grenade inside, but that had the same 'dead people' result, although teargas might work if all else failed. The biggest problem was that there was no telling what the soldiers inside would do if backed further into a corner.

Ten minutes later, Ronon showed up with Carter. John had never seen her look so pissed in her entire year in Atlantis, and he couldn't imagine the handcuffs were doing her mood any good.

"Sam," he said with a smile.

"Sheppard," she returned, distinctly without a smile. If anything, it looked like she was trying to incinerate him with her mind.

"Sorry about all this. We didn't have much of a choice."

"You know this is mutiny and treason, right?

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"And that they'll shoot you if the SGC captures you?"

"They have to catch me first," John said cheerfully.

"Damn it, John, this isn't game!" Carter shouted. She looked at the marines and Teyla, then her expression softened. "If you give up now, we could probably make a bargain, keep most of your co-conspirators out of jail. Do it for them, even if you don't have any self-preservation."

"I don't think that's going to happen." John looked down to where her hands were cuffed behind her back. "If I take those off, will you offer me your parole? We have the city locked up tight and we've got control over all the key areas. The only thing you gain by not giving in is a cramp."

Carter hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. You have my word I won't try to escape, sabotage the city, or otherwise cause trouble. That doesn't mean I'm going to cooperate with you, though."

"Get the cuffs off her, sergeant," John said. He waited for the marine to pull out his keys and free Carter before going on. "Actually, about that cooperation thing. We've got a bit of a situation here that I need your help with."

"J- Sheppard, didn't I just say no?"

"Look, we've got some scared kids holed up in the armory and they won't come out without hearing from you." Carter started to open her mouth, but John held up his hand. "I'm not asking you to lie to them. I'm just asking you to tell them you've surrendered and order them to do the same. I promise they won't be hurt."

Carter pushed past him to look around the corner. "Who's in there?"

"Lieutenant Thornton and a few enlisted guys. If we have to pry them out of there, someone's going to get hurt."

Carter turned around to look him in the eye. "Fine. I'm doing it for them, though, not to make life easy on you."

"Works for me," John replied.

Carter shook her head and took a deep breath, then raised her arms and stepped out into the hall leading to the armory. She walked a few feet down it before coming to a stop again and calling out, "Lieutenant Thornton? It's Colonel Carter. I need to talk with you."

Peeking around the corner, John could see shadows moving closer to the armory door and the tiniest flash of an elbow. "Colonel? Oh. It's good to see you, ma'am."

"It's good to see you too. You all okay in there? No one hurt?"

"No, ma'am, we're all fine. How about you?"

Carter shrugged. "I've got a bruised ego, but that's about it."

"What about everyone else?"

"Everyone's fine. As far as I can tell, no one else put up much of a fight before the city went into lockdown. A few stunner hits is about the worst of it."

"That's good to hear, ma'am."

"Lieutenant, they've got complete control of the city and you're outnumbered at least ten to one. As your commanding officer, I'm ordering your lay down your weapons and surrender."

There was a long, tense pause before Thornton replied, "We can't do that, ma'am."

"Lieutenant, that wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. Stand down and surrender."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but even if you haven't been compromised someone has to remain free to repel the, um. Snakes? Mind control aliens? Whoever they are."

"As far as I can tell, it's just Sheppard and McKay being idiots and leading others into trouble." Carter shot John a heated look over her shoulder as she said it.

"That seems unlikely, ma'am."

Carter pursed her lips in frustration. "Do you guys even have the slightest idea or plan for retaking the city?"

"Um. Not yet, but we'll think of something. It's what the colonel would do. Not, you know, that we'd tell you if we did have a plan, what with the enemy listening and all."

"Right. Okay, think of it a different way, then. How long do you really think you can stay in there? Do you even have any food or water?"

There was a muffled conversation within the armory, which lasted several minutes. Eventually, Thornton replied, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't do that. Don't worry, though, we'll figure something out. Everyone will be back to normal in no time."

"That's okay. Good luck, I guess." Sam slowly backed up until she was safely out of view and turned to John. "So much for that."

"Nice work," John said, knowing he was being a bit petty but too annoyed to stop himself.

Carter spread her hands. "Sorry that your mutiny isn't going smoother. Maybe you should give up."

"How about not?" John said with a glare. He stared down the corridor and started to think aloud. "Okay. Atlantis is a spaceship, right? So pretty much every room is capable of being sealed off. That means that each room should be able to individually controlled in terms of life support. Is that right, Mike?"

_"Sure is, boss."_

"What was that?" Carter asked, looking around.

"My Friend the Computer," John replied. He leaned around the corner and called out, "Lieutenant Thornton! I'm gonna give you one last chance to come out of there. I guarantee you won't be harmed, but I can't say the same if I have to come in and get you myself!"

"Sorry, sir! You'll thank me once you're sane again!"

John sighed and thumped the wall. "Okay, we'll do this the hard way. Mike, on my command I want you to remove the air from that room for twenty seconds or until everyone inside is unconscious, whichever is shorter. Can you do that?"

There was a short pause, then hesitantly Mike said, _"I'm going to need you to authorize me to override the decompression safeties to do that, John."_

"What?" Carter shouted. "John, think about this for a second. There's got to be another way."

"You can survive a couple minutes in vacuum. This will be just enough to knock them out, and it's a lot faster then gas would be," he growled back at her. "Mike. Override the decompression safeties and execute my order."

Atlantis' hooting alarm began to sound and a second later the armory blast door slammed shut, smashing through the chair like it wasn't even there. Someone began to pound on the door, only to stop moments later.. Seconds ticked past in ominous silence, until the door sprang open without warning and a gust a wind swept through the corridor as air rushed back into the compartment.

"Go!" John shouted, sprinting down the hall with Teyla, Ronon, and the medics close on his heals. He drew his phaser as he went, but it proved unnecessary as all four soldiers were splayed out unconscious on the floor. He squatted down to check Thornton's pulse, only to be pushed aside by Keller.

"They're all breathing," she said after a second of waving her medical scanner about. "I'll still want to take them to the infirmary and get them under a scanner, just to be safe."

She glared at him like she expected him to toss them into the brig instead, but he shook his head. "That's fine by me, doc."

"Ronon, help us get them onto the stretchers, would you?" she asked as she turned back to her charges.

For his part, John walked back to where Carter was standing. She still didn't look happy at all, but her posture had relaxed just a little now that she'd heard everyone was fine.

"So," John casually said. "I was going to have you escorted to your quarters to get packed, but if you think it'd look better I could toss you in a cell instead."

Carter closed her eyes. "I don't think anything going to help at this point."

He smiled. "Well, in that case, how about you join my team for lunch? You can hear our side of things."

She looked at him like she couldn't quite believe he was saying that, but shrugged and nodded. "If you insist, I suppose a bit of intelligence gathering won't hurt."

"You wouldn't mind breaking the news to Woolsey, would you?"

"Don't push your luck, John."

**\--- 11.3 ---**

"... and I'm sure you can all imagine what else they might do if they're already going to take the ZPM and are already considering blowing up the city. If you don't believe me, the video of Forrester's chat is posted on the server," John said. He was standing in the control room and speaking to the entire expedition over the intercom, having finally gotten everything settled down. Most of the population, except for his supporters, had been shepherded back to living quarters and a few open spaces like the mess. Everything else was sealed off and guarded.

"What it comes down to is that I'm not prepared to let Earth decide whether or not we should abandon everyone in Pegasus to their fate, and whether or not we should have to let our home be destroyed. I'm not going to force anyone to stay, and I know a lot of you probably are wondering whether it's even possible to survive out here without support from Earth. I can't go into details, so you're just going to have to trust me when I say we're prepared. I also won't pretend it'll be easy to go back to Earth if you change your mind later, because they're definitely not going to be happy with us. I think it's worth the price."

"So, here's the deal. We're dialing Earth in six hours. You've got until then to decide and pack if you need to. You're free to take any personal items you want, although we're not allowing Ancient technology through the gate. We've got a few volunteers who will talk things over if you want, and the command staff will be on the IRC server as well. Finally, I want you all to know that whatever you decide, it's been an honor and a privilege serving with you. Sheppard out."

Teyla came up beside John and put her hand on his shoulder. "That was well spoken."

"Oh, please. You call that a speech?" Rodney asked, with a roll of his eyes.

John himself wasn't too sure he'd said anything special, but he cuffed the back of Rodney's head on general principles anyways.

**=====**

"And you're sure this message is going to get home?" Dean asked.

"For the last time, sir, yes," Chuck replied. "Even if they manage to prevent the databurst from getting out on the web, we've got a courier going out, too, with all the files compressed."

"Yeah, but how are they going to get distributed?" Sam asked. "It's not that we don't trust you or anything, but Uncle Bobby's going to be pissed if we disappear without without any word."

"I'm routing it through a cousin who's got a close friend high up in CSIS, sir. I can guarantee that he'll take care of it.."

Dean interrupted to ask, "Friend in what?"

"Never mind. Look, I've had a long time to set this up and I'm positive it's going to work. Proper preparation prevents poor performance, after all."

"Are we still talking about the video?" Dean asked suspiciously.

Chuck sighed. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I've still got actual work to do."

As he watched the tech walk off, Dean shook his head. "Someone's in a bad mood."

"Maybe if you were a little more polite, he wouldn't be," Sam suggested.

"If you say so." Dean eyed Sam. "You sure you want to stay? It's not too late for us to change our minds."

"No, I thought I'd give up designing starships and living in a talking city just to go back to a nine to five job on Earth. Of course I'm sure, you moron."

"All right, all right, I just thought I'd ask. If that's the case, let's go grab some food. I hear there's pie."

"This is another galaxy and pie's still all you can think of."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"I'll kick your ass if I have to."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I could break you in half with my pinky. Don't think I won't."

"That'll be the day."

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk."

**=====**

"Don't forget to check up on those quasi-orchids we just planted in Greenhouse Three, I think they may need a little more water than the other varieties we've seen so far."

"I know, Katie."

"And if you can, I'd really appreciate it if you'd keep working on my citrus-free oranges. I know you're probably going to be really busy, but if you have the time I think Rodney would really like them."

"Well, anything that makes McKay a little easier to handle is definitely worth some effort."

"David! He's not that bad, he's just... Rodney."

"I know, I know. I've worked with the man long enough to know he's not a complete ass. Just almost a complete ass."

"He means well..."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just wish I didn't have to leave, and I feel bad for dumping all this work on you."

"You could stay, you know."

"I know, but it wouldn't be fair to my mom. She's not been well lately."

"I understand."

"I'll miss you all."

"Same here. Maybe this will all blow over and we'll see each other again."

"I hope so."

**\--- 11.4 ---**

"How are we doing?" John asked Evan as they stood together in the control room. Below a large crowd was assembled in the gateroom and the staging area beyond. Everyone wore backpacks and carried duffel bags stuffed full of everything they'd accumulated over the months or years they'd been in the city. It was a mostly even split between civilian and military, and in many ways the group reminded John of the original expedition just before it had stepped through the gate. The biggest difference was that here and there people were hugging and having tearful goodbyes, along with more than a few angry stares aimed in his direction. In addition to all of them, the entire upper level was packed with people there just to see others off.

"We're loosing about two hundred people," Evan replied. He had a checklist of names, making sure that everyone was accounted for one way or another. "More military than I'd like, but it's not as bad as it could be. We've got pretty much every gene carrier, too, except for a couple who still have dependents back Earthside."

"That still leaves us with over two-fifty, and I'd settle for just the gene carriers," John said. "Hell, I'd settle for just the forty working with us."

"Forty?" John and Evan turned to see Woolsey behind them, with Teyla at his side. "I'll be sure to note that number in my report to the government. I wouldn't want any of you to be missed when the Air Force takes the city back."

"I'll miss you too, Mr. Woolsey," John said with a grin. "For what it's worth, you're not a bad guy, and I even liked you. A little."

"And for what it's worth, Mr. Sheppard, I look forward to testifying at your court martial." Woolsey looked at Teyla. "May I go, or do you intend to toss me through the wormhole yourself?"

"Not unless it is necessary to do so," she replied, waving her hand at the stairs. Woolsey marched down them to wait just outside the gate's splash zone, back straight and head held tall.

Carter, Rodney, and Ronon entered the control room next. Rodney gave Carter a last, awkward hug before sliding into his chair. John smiled at her, but she didn't quite smile back at him.

"So, how do you want to play this?" John asked. "I can put a gun to your head, if you want. Put on a show."

"No one would believe you'd pull the trigger, John," she told him. "No, I'll go along with your plan."

"Thanks. Really, I mean it." John took a deep breath. "Chuck. Dial Earth."

The gate whirred to life and the symbols lit up one by one in the familiar pattern until, with a final thunk that sounded louder than ever before, the wormhole sprang into existence. Everyone in the room grew silent and all eyes turned their way.

Carter stepped in front of the main monitor and said, "Chuck, get me a video link to the SGC."

"Yes, ma'am." A moment later the screen came to life to show the SGC control room and the familiar face of Cameron Mitchell.

"Hey, Sam," he said with a broad, friendly grin. "Nice to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Cam," she replied.

"I hope you've got this strike thing settled. Between you and me, General O'Neill's getting a bit cranky. He should be here in a minute; he's been waiting all day for you to dial us back."

"Oh, you could say it's settled alright," Carter said, with a glance over at John. "Actually, if you'd open the iris, we're sending some people through to talk with the general in person. Woolsey's one of them, I think he wants to talk with the IOA board in person."

"Really?" Mitchell frowned. "That's a bit weird. Everything okay?"

"As okay as you'd expect. I think Woolsey's worried about his job."

Cam chuckled and nodded to someone off screen. "I would be too, if I were him. You're good to go."

That was John's cue. He leaned over the railing and called out, "All right, people. Get a move on."

Woolsey shot him one last venomous glare before stepping through the wormhole. John grinned and walked over to stand next to Carter, giving Cam a jaunty wave as he stepped into the camera's view. "Howdy, Cam. How's it going?"

Cam blinked and waved back hesitantly. "Uh, hey, John. I'm fine. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm great." John turned to Carter. "Time for you to leave, Colonel. Good luck."

"You too," Carter replied. She shook his hand one last time before picking up her bags and heading for the gate.

Meanwhile, Cam's eyes had bugged out and he was saying, "John, what the hell is going on? This looks like more than a few people. And why did Sam just come through -- hey!"

Someone had shoved him out of the way, and moments later O'Neill was staring balefully through the screen. "Sheppard, you've got ten seconds to explain what the fuck you think you're doing."

"Actually, sir, I've got a speech prepared." John stood up a bit straighter and cleared his throat. "Four score and twenty -- no, wait, wrong speech. When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another -"

"Oh, you can not be serious," Rodney shouted from behind him.

At the same time O'Neill's frown somehow managed to express new and as yet untold depth of unhappiness and anger, while the general said, "That had better be a joke, Sheppard."

"Yeah, it was, actually. Here's the situation: the people of Atlantis have become convinced that the interests of Earth, or rather the interests of some of Earth's political leaders, no longer have anything to do with what's in the best interests of Atlantis and the Pegasus galaxy as a whole. For that reason, we feel that we have no choice but to reject the authority of the IOA, of Stargate Command, and of any other Tau'ri political body, and in doing so declare Atlantis a free and independent state. I want to make it clear that we bear Earth and her people no ill will, and in fact would be more than willing to open up diplomatic relations at some point in the near future. Of course, that's not to say there's not a few of you we really hate, given how badly you just tried to fuck us over."

Rodney interrupted again by shouting, "You can't say that! That's not part of what we wrote!"

"I'm improvising a little," John retorted, turning to glare at his friend.

"Well, stop it!"

"Do you think you can do better?"

"Actually, yes." Rodney started to get out of his chair, but John ignored him and turned back to the screen. For the briefest of moments, he almost imagined he saw a hint of laughter in O'Neill's eyes.

"So, um... ah. Damn it, Rodney, now I've forgotten it all. Anyways. We've transmitted you a text version of our declaration of independence and a statement of principles. Basically, we're willing to talk about trade and all that jazz once we've gotten things firmly settled here. The Wraith are our enemy, not you, unless you try to mess around with us." John looked over his shoulder, to where the gate stood empty now, with everyone who was leaving having passed through. "There are a few other things, but that's the important stuff. In conclusion: so long, and thanks for all the fish."

With that, John reached behind him and with one sharp stroke killed the gate. He looked around to see that the dozens of people crammed into the control room were watching him and now holding their collective breath, as if not quite believing they'd really managed to pull it all off. Then someone started clapping, and within moments the air was filled with the sound of cheers. John found himself awkwardly hugging Rodney, then Teyla, Ronon, even Radek, before finally ending up with Evan in his arms.

Evan grinned and leaned into kiss him, eliciting even more cheers and catcalls from all around them. When they broke apart, Evan said against his lips, "We did it."

"We did."

"Would it be sappy to say I love you?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I won't say it then," Evan said, before kissing him again.

Slowly, things began to settle down and people began to drift away, no doubt heading off to the mess for the first Atlantis Independence Day party. Once most of them were safely out of earshot, John stepped back from Evan and looked around at his friends with a slightly sheepish smile.

"So, uh. Anyone have a clue what we do next?"

**\--- The End ---**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for this one. Obviously there's more to tell in this series, but that's why it's called a series. I plan to write at least one more fic about the first few months after the secession, to look at how Atlantis starts to deal with various problems such as the Wraith, the Genii, various irate Earthlings (including the question of who's angrier - Landry or Jeannie Miller?), and worst of all, impending fatherhood. Hopefully it will be done within a couple months, as it will be much shorter, around 20k words. Thanks for all the comments that have been left.


End file.
